Reluctant Promises
by penny1200
Summary: Harry ropes Hermione into serving as Draco's liaison with the Ministry and guide to the Muggle world when he has to live a year as a Muggle as punishment for his part in the war. post-DH, ignores epilogue
1. Chapter 1

Spoilers: Compliant with Deathly Hallows but ignores the epilogue.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Everything recognizable is owned by J.K. Rowling and I'm not her.

A/N: This is my very first Harry Potter fanfic, although I have written for Glee before. If any of my Glee readers are reading this, please let me know and thanks for your support even across fandoms! I know there have been a lot of fics about Draco's rehabilitation after the war (though I've rarely read those), but I hope to make mine different from previous ones. I also want to clarify that I'm American, not British, so I apologize ahead of time for any incorrect Britisms. This fic will definitely be Draco/Hermione, but Hermione will start out with Ron. Again, I ignore the epilogue, so don't be surprised to find that I've changed around relationships to fit what I like best. I couldn't have Draco/Hermione otherwise after all! Also, I love reviews, but rest assured that I'll never hold a chapter hostage for them. Please read and review! Thanks!

"I won't do it."

With those words hanging in the air, Hermione Granger crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her best friend. The newly twenty-one year old witch was well aware that she was behaving immaturely and completely out of character but she felt that this situation completely warranted it. How dare he ask her to do that for him!

Hermione was standing in Harry Potter's brand new office in Auror Headquarters at the Ministry of Magic on a sunny day in late September. He had recently been promoted to head up new Auror training. When he asked Hermione to visit him today, she had thought he wanted her opinion on the new training regimen that he was implementing since she had gone to university and graduated early with her degree in teaching. When he asked her for a promise before telling her what it entailed, she had given it freely. He was Harry after all. _Well, see if she ever did that again!_

"Come on Mione," Harry pleaded. "I need you to do this for me. I don't have any other choices."

The expression in her wide brown eyes hardened and Hermione tilted her chin up. "Silly nicknames won't get me to agree, and what do you mean you don't have any other choices? I can think of at least one: you do it."

Harry ran a hand through his already unruly black hair in frustration; he had known this wouldn't be easy. "I can't do it. I'm too busy overhauling the training program right now, you know that." When she opened her mouth to respond, Harry cut her off. "You and Ron are the only ones that I would trust with this, so I won't send one of the other Aurors."

"Then send Ron," Hermione announced decisively, dropping her arms back to her side.

"Oi!" the redhead shouted from his position lounging against the wall next to the door.

"Sorry Ron, but better you than me," she apologized halfheartedly before turning back to Harry. "He has the knowledge now. He could do it just as well as I could."

Harry looked away from her, studying one of the moving photos on his desk with great interest. "I can't send Ron; he'd kill him the first time he said something stupid and you know it."

Hermione turned her anger on the other boy who shrugged.

"He's right. I can't stand the git and knowing I had the only wand..." Ron trailed off, a dreamy look coming over his face.

The brunette girl was outraged. "You're my boyfriend! You're just going to let Harry sacrifice me like this?"

The redhead wasn't paying attention, still lost in his fantasy.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped causing him to jump slightly and look at her.

"Better you than me," he repeated her words back at her. "You've got that whole kindness thing going on so you're not likely to hex him. Repeatedly."

As Hermione watched her boyfriend drift back into his fantasies, she knew that he was a lost cause so she turned her attention back to Harry.

"I won't do it Harry. I just won't and you can't make me," she emphasized, just barely restraining herself from sticking her tongue out at him. That would cross too far over the line of immaturity. "I don't even understand why this is so important to you."

He sighed and dropped into the chair behind his desk wearily.

"There's good there; I know there is. The next year is the best chance that we have to bring it out in him. If we can save him from himself and give him that chance, then shouldn't we?" he asked, green eyes sparkling with passion even as the rest of his face showed every sign of exhaustion.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. She didn't want to do it (_she definitely couldn't have been clearer about that_), but she always was powerless to deny Harry even when she hated his ideas. Lifting her head, she cast one last glance at Ron. He had come out of his daydreaming, but he was watching her with amusement in his bright blue eyes. _No help there_. She gave an annoyed huff.

"Fine! I'll do it."

Harry beamed at her. "Thanks Mione. I knew I could count on you."

She frowned at him. "You owe me for this. Big time. The next time I ask you for something, you're going to give it to me no questions asked," she warned. Secretly she wondered if she would ever call in the favor though; she never asked Harry for anything.

His smile didn't fade in the least. "Anything." He turned all business. "We have the house ready and he's expecting you at his place." He held out several sheets of parchment. "These are your instructions and the address of the house we have secured for Malfoy. You'd better go; you're already fifteen minutes late."

Hermione grimaced again (it was awfully presumptuous of Harry to have already told him she was coming) but headed toward the door nevertheless. At least if he knew that she was his liaison already, things would be easier on her.

Ron stopped her with a quick kiss. "I'll see you at home tonight."

Still angry at how very unhelpful he was, Hermione pushed past him. He was sleeping on the couch tonight because she was going to place an unbreakable locking charm on the bedroom door when she got home. He wasn't getting back into their bed until she decided to let him and removed the charm.

Stomping down the hallway to the lifts, she scowled at everyone she passed.

She couldn't believe she had agreed to be Draco bloody Malfoy's handler.

ooooo

Draco Malfoy was waiting rather impatiently in the parlor of Malfoy Manor. The person assigned to help him adjust to the Muggle world should have arrived several minutes ago. The longer he waited, the more he could feel the resentment building up in his chest. Who was this person to think he could make a Malfoy wait?

This whole practice was pointless. What did they honestly expect a year spent living without a wand would do? He had already gone the two years that he was in Azkaban without a wand, so not using magic wouldn't be that much of an adjustment for him. Of course in Azkaban he didn't have to do anything to take care of himself. The prison had employees to cook for him and wait on him. A few of the guards were good for decent conversation. In fact, after the years spent under the Dark Lord's thumb, Azkaban had been a welcome change. _No one forcing him to torture or plot murder_, he thought bitterly. How pitiful was it that he had preferred the dreaded Azkaban to the wizard whose mark he still wore?

Draco shoved those distasteful thoughts aside. He had been released from Azkaban the previous afternoon, straight into his mother's custody. She had gotten off lightly compared to him and his father. Saint Potter had testified at her trial about how she had saved his life, leading to the Dark Lord's downfall. That information had gotten her a brief one year spent living as a Muggle, much as he was about to.

Potter and his perfect little friends had also testified on his behalf, stating that he hadn't committed any crimes that they knew of, aside from letting the Death Eaters into the school and nearly killing Weasel and that other girl in sixth year. Potter had even told the Wizengamot about how he was under duress when committing those crimes (_duress_, he snorted internally, _that word clearly came from Granger_). Thanks to their testimony, Draco had been sentenced to a mere two years in Azkaban's minimum security block and one year living as a Muggle in the Muggle world. He of course found all of this completely distasteful. It wasn't bad enough that he already owed Potter a life debt for saving him from the Fiendfyre, but now he owed him for getting him a lighter sentence. _And living among the Muggles_...Draco shuddered at the thought. _He'd never be clean again!_ He may not be a murderer, but he still fully held that wizards were far superior to Muggles and Mudbloods.

His father had suffered the harshest punishment of the family. Potty and his friends had risen to his defense too, but the best they could do was confirm that Lucius hadn't taken part in the fighting during the final battle. He still had to suffer for his previously convicted crimes, plus his escape from Azkaban after he was arrested for the Ministry break-in. Luckily the Wizengamot couldn't tie Lucius to any of the unforgiveables cast throughout the war (unlike Draco and his Imperious on Madam Rosmerta-that fell under the duress portion of his defense) so he didn't receive a life sentence. Instead, his father would serve five years in Azkaban and then his one year living as a Muggle. He was lucky though; he would be able to take his wife with him for that year. Draco had to suffer through the year with no contact outside of his liaison with the Ministry and his family (because he absolutely refused to mingle with the Muggles).

Draco frowned. Maybe he'd get lucky and they'd assign a hot young witch to him so he could shag her for the next year. He probably wouldn't be that lucky though; he bet he'd wind up with some old wizard who was half senile and completely incompetent. Draco had zero faith in Aurors. He felt that they mostly had their heads stuck up their asses or else they would have been able to spot the Ministry employees the Dark Lord had placed under the Imperious and kept him from taking over the Ministry. And they definitely wouldn't have needed a group of teenagers to end the war.

Draco kicked his magically expanded trunk where it sat on the floor in front of him. He had packed earlier that morning. All of his clothing and robes were tucked away, along with some money, several books, a wizarding chess set, a pack of Exploding Snap cards, and a handful of other cleverly disguised magical items. He didn't expect the Auror sent to cover him would be smart enough to uncover all of his items; he had been too sneaky for that and Aurors were idiots. Fingering the galleons in the pocket of the black robe he was wearing, his thoughts turned to that morning's meeting with his father.

His mother, who had to escort him in public until his liaison picked him up that afternoon, had taken him to visit his father in Azkaban. Draco was glad to see that the prison didn't appear to weigh any heavier on Lucius than it had on him. He actually appeared stronger than he had when the Dark Lord had been living in their house-much more like the man that Draco had idolized growing up. After the three had visited for a bit in a private room (it was the first time they had all been together since Draco's trial), Narcissa and Draco had risen to leave. Lucius had stopped them and asked for a word alone with Draco. Draco could tell that his mother was confused, but she had left the two of them, stating that she would be waiting for Draco in the hall.

_"Draco," Lucius had started, "the Ministry is going to try to confuse you over the next year. They are going to attempt to influence your beliefs about Muggles and Mudbloods, but you cannot let them. You must remain faithful to the beliefs that your mother and I have instilled in you. The fact that you are a wizard makes you infinitely better than a Muggle. That you are a Pureblood means you are superior to Mudbloods. And as a Malfoy, you are royalty among Purebloods. Remember that."_

Draco nearly snorted out loud (he didn't-that would be undignified) at remembrance of the warning. As if he needed the reminder that he was superior to everyone else. Anger at his fate for the next year had him kicking his trunk again and then wishing he hadn't when he stubbed his toe through his boot. Damn shoddy workmanship; these boots were supposed to have reinforced toes.

"Draco, dear," his mother got his attention. She was gliding in the rocking chair kept in the parlor; it was the same one that she used to rock him to sleep in when he was a baby. "I don't know what your father said to you today, but I imagine that it was a reminder about how you are a Pureblood."

Draco restrained himself from rolling his eyes (also undignified) and gazed steadily at his mother. He was still surprised at how different she was. She seemed younger than she had during the war. Gone was the beaten down woman who used to worry that her entire world would crash down around her. In her place was the woman that he remembered from his childhood. Her blue eyes sparkled with life again. He had glimpsed the differences when she would visit him in prison, but it was more obvious when he was able to spend more than half an hour with her at a time.

"I want to ask a favor of you," she continued, oblivious to his thoughts. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod to show that he was listening. "I want you to keep an open mind over the next year."

Waves of disbelief washed over Draco. _What in the hell was she talking about?_

She must have understood because she smiled, her eyes alight with humor. "I sound crazy, I know. Don't forget that I've been where you are now. I've already put in my one year of Muggle living. It's..." she paused as if unsure how to continue on. "It's not bad," she finally settled on lamely. "There are some very good things about the Muggle world if you'll just give them a chance."

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. His mother actually _liked_ the Muggle world?

Narcissa wasn't done. "Your father is a good man, but he is misguided in his beliefs," she explained with the soft smile she always wore when speaking about Lucius. She stilled the chair and her expression grew serious. "I was misguided in my beliefs until I spent a year away. I had no contact with the magical world outside of Harry Potter and my supervised visits with you and your father in Azkaban for that year." Draco raised his eyebrow and she clarified. "Harry Potter was my liaison and guide for my stay. I didn't want to lose the comfort of magic, but there is something very liberating about the Muggle way of life. I want you to experience that for yourself, so promise me that you'll keep an open mind about your new life for the next year."

His mother had clearly lost her mind (which would explain why she seemed so much happier), but with the way she was looking at him, he couldn't deny her. She had always been his one soft spot; it's one of many reasons why he would never be friends with Potter-he had taken a shot at Narcissa at the World Cup years ago. He sighed. He was a Slytherin; just because he made a promise didn't mean he had to keep it.

"Fine. I'll do it."

When his mother beamed her approval at him, he was glad he had lied. He bit back a groan at her next words.

"Do try and get along with your liaison. If you make him angry or break the rules he sets, you could end up living in the Muggle world for longer than the year or even wind up back in Azkaban."

"Fine," he said yet again. He sure as hell didn't want to spend any longer than a year among the Muggles.

They sat silently for a few moments before the tingling of the wards alerted them both to the presence of another person on the grounds. Several seconds later a house-elf led the new arrival into the parlor. Draco was surprised to see his mother, who was facing the doorway, smile genuinely at the person. Taking a deep breath, Draco steadied himself to face the man who, outside of his family, would be his only contact with the magical world over the next year. He prayed that it wasn't Potter.

It wasn't, but it was almost as bad.

"Granger," he muttered under his breath. "Just chuck me back in Azkaban now."

ooooo

Hermione wasn't happy to be back at Malfoy Manor. Logically she knew that the house no longer hid anything more vile than Draco Malfoy himself, but that hadn't stopped the shiver of apprehension that ran down her spine when the house-elf had let her in. After all, the last time she had been here, she had been tortured and nearly had her throat slit by a madwoman (though she had been unconscious for that part). It was no surprise that she was unhappy to come back. Those feelings only grew when she entered the parlor, although Narcissa Malfoy's welcoming smile had helped to ease the tension some. Harry had explained that Mrs. Malfoy was actually a decent person who had enjoyed her time in the Muggle world once she grew accustomed to it. Given the way that Mrs. Malfoy was looking at her, Hermione had to wonder if Harry had talked about her at some point. Shaking off her curiosity, Hermione turned to Malfoy.

"I beg your pardon? What was that?" she asked.

She had heard his comment of course, but she wasn't going to make this any easier on him. Internally, she began to plot the best way to make Harry pay for this favor. She thought she might enjoy a break from housework. Maybe she could have him take care of it for her, not Kreacher, mind you, but Harry himself.

Malfoy scowled at her. "Nothing."

Hermione nearly grinned at that; perhaps having Malfoy's future in her hands wouldn't be so bad if it meant that he kept his mouth shut.

"How are you doing Miss Granger?" Mrs. Malfoy questioned, rising from her rocking chair and approaching Hermione, hand outstretched.

Briefly taken aback by this show of friendliness, Hermione recovered quickly and shook the older woman's hand. "Quite well, for the most part." She shot a look at Malfoy on these words before meeting Mrs. Malfoy's eyes again. "Thank you for asking Mrs. Malfoy."

"Narcissa, please," the blonde refuted. She must have sensed Hermione's confusion at the unexpected behavior because she clarified, "Harry spoke very highly of you. I do hope my son doesn't cause you any trouble over the next year."

Hermione couldn't think of anything kind to say to that, so she made a non-committal noise and dropped Narcissa's hand. She was quite certain that Malfoy would be nothing but trouble for the next year, but she didn't want to hurt the blonde's feelings when she was being so kind. To avoid breaking the peace, she turned to Malfoy. She might as well get started on her duties.

"Do you have whatever you're bringing with you?"

Malfoy pointed to a trunk that was sitting on the floor in front of the loveseat that he had been using. Hermione checked the parchment that Harry had given to her earlier and read the instructions for this portion of her assignment. Nodding to herself, she refolded the parchment and stuffed it back into her pale blue robes. Moving around the loveseat, she tapped the trunk with her wand and heard a click as it unlocked. Ignoring Malfoy's outraged yell, she lifted the lid and began to sort through the objects, keeping up a running commentary as she did so.

"Absolutely not," she said, setting the pack of Exploding Snap aside. "If you want to play chess, you can buy a muggle chess set," she added as the wizarding chess set joined the cards. "I'll take this."

When she plucked the bag of coins out of Malfoy's trunk, Malfoy, who was standing over and watching her, made a grab for the leather pouch.

"You can't take my money Granger!" he cried out in anger.

She tilted her head back to meet his silver eyes from where she was crouched on the floor. "Oh, quiet Malfoy. I'm not taking your money; I'm merely going to have it converted into Muggle money for you. You can't use wizard gold in the Muggle world you know."

Tucking the gold into her pocket, Hermione turned back to the contents of the trunk and missed Draco nervously slipping a hand into his own pocket.

"I know that Granger," he confirmed tensely. "I don't see where you have the right to decide what I can take with me."

Hermione sighed as she pulled out a disguised sneakoscope and added it to the growing pile of illicit items. "I am your liaison with the Ministry-that's what gives me the right." She dug back into the trunk. "You know that you're not allowed to have any magical items with you and that includes...uh, really Malfoy?"

Hermione pulled her arm out of the trunk, a tightly rolled poster clutched in her hand. She unrolled the poster and ignored the half naked woman winking at her from it, instead focusing her attention on what was concealed inside of it. She gazed up at Malfoy in disbelief.

"A wand? You actually thought that you could sneak a wand past me?"

She had recognized it because the instant she had grasped the poster warm magic had flowed up her arm, weaker than when she held her own wand but unmistakable nonetheless.

"I thought they were sending me an Auror. I didn't realize they were going to stick me with the know-it-all Mudbl..."

"Draco Malfoy don't you dare finish that sentence."

They were both surprised when Narcissa cut off his comment in a sharp voice. With her attention so completely focused on the task at hand, Hermione had completely forgotten that she was still in the room. Feeling as if she was losing control of the situation, Hermione stood up and met the petulant wizard's eyes. Praying for all the self-control she could muster, Hermione tried to take that control back.

"Listen, Malfoy, I'm no happier to be here than you are. However, I am in charge here and if you don't like that, then I would be perfectly happy to chuck you back into Azkaban as you requested earlier," she stated forcefully, her hands propped on her hips.

Malfoy didn't say a word, but he broke eye contact first. Hermione took that as a sign that she had won this little skirmish and dropped back to the floor to finish her work with his trunk in silence. Once she was satisfied that she had gotten all of the contraband, even the most cleverly disguised items, she shut the lid, relocked it, and stood back up.

"Time to go," she announced with false cheeriness.

"So soon?" Narcissa asked, a slight sadness tinging her voice.

Hermione nodded sympathetically. As much of a prat as Malfoy was, he was still Narcissa's son and Hermione could understand her reluctance to say goodbye so soon after she finally had him back home.

"You can visit him at his new home Narcissa. All you have to do is owl and I'll take you through; all visits must be supervised to prevent anyone breaking the law against magic use as I'm sure you remember," Hermione reminded her, forgetting momentarily that all of Narcissa's family had been in prison during her year in the Muggle world.

"I know and I'll definitely owl you in future I'm sure," Narcissa agreed, shaking Hermione's hand once again. "It was very nice to finally, truly meet you, Miss Granger."

"Hermione," Hermione corrected her absently.

She got what Narcissa had meant. Despite all of the times they had been in the same spot, this was the first time the two witches had actually met. Mostly because they had always been in life or death circumstances before. Hermione watched with some amusement as the older witch pulled an unwilling Malfoy into a hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Malfoy pulled back, slightly pink with what Hermione could only guess was embarrassment over his mom showing affection to him in front of her.

"Remember your promise Draco," Narcissa said in a gentle voice.

Hermione, definitely curious about the promise, could tell that Malfoy was less than pleased with those words but he still gave a dutiful 'Yes Mother'. Malfoy bent down and hefted up his trunk with minimal effort (Hermione couldn't help but be a bit impressed by that) and led the way to the front door of the manor. Hermione followed closely behind and Narcissa trailed after her. Their procession moved silently down the front walk to the gates. Hermione and Malfoy stepped outside of the gates while Narcissa paused just inside the gate, waving a goodbye to them.

"How are we getting there?" Malfoy asked in a belligerent tone, dropping one end of the trunk and keeping hold of one handle.

"Side-along apparition of course," she responded, holding her arm out for him to take hold of. He scowled down at her and Hermione huffed in impatience. "Oh, come on then. We don't have all day."

Malfoy's expression didn't change one whit, but he grabbed her arm with his free hand and Hermione whisked them both off to his new home.

Back on the grounds of Malfoy Manor Narcissa was staring at the spot that her son and the brilliant Muggleborn had recently occupied in amusement. She had a feeling the next year would be quite an interesting one.

ooooo

"Did you do it?"

Harry gazed at his wife, her pale blue eyes shining with interest, as he entered the living room of their cottage in Godric's Hollow that night. Glad to finally be home after what felt like a very long day at work, he laid down on the couch next to her and rested his head in her lap. He knew that he only had a short time of this particular comfort left before her stomach would be too swollen with their first child for his head to fit. His head already nudged the baby bump. As she always did, she began to stroke her fingers through his hair and he began to relax.

"It wasn't easy but I finally convinced her," he answered her question.

"Good."

Harry could hear the happiness in her normally dreamy voice. Pregnancy had made her more alert and involved with her surroundings. He still wasn't sure about her plan though.

"I promise you that it's for the best," she continued on in that way she had of knowing exactly what he was thinking without him having to say a thing. "For both of them."

No longer relaxed, Harry rose and started pacing in front of the couch. His wife just watched his agitated actions serenely.

"How can this be what's best? They hate each other," he pointed out.

On his next pass by her, nineteen-weeks-pregnant Luna Potter reached out and laid a hand on her husband's arm.

"They're perfect for each other," she responded calmly. "The Nigglewumpfs told me so. And Narcissa and I both agree."

Harry dropped back down on the couch and buried his face in his hands. He loved his wife, but he often wished that he had kept that particular conversation with Narcissa to himself.

Harry had served as Narcissa Malfoy's guide to the Muggle world during her year there. Because her only family was in prison, he was her only company from their world so the two had grown understandably close. Harry had taken to having tea with her every afternoon and they had talked about a wide variety of subjects. Eventually, this led to him telling her about his various adventures at Hogwarts. And so Narcissa had heard a lot about both Ron and Hermione. One day, a little over a year ago, as he was finishing the story of their third year, including how Hermione had slapped Malfoy, the witch had surprised him.

_"Miss Granger sounds like just the sort of woman my Draco needs," she had mused thoughtfully._

Harry had gone into a coughing fit as he fought not to choke on his tea. Hermione and Malfoy? The very thought was ridiculous.

"Sorry, but you think the girl who slapped your son would be good for him?" he had asked incredulously.

She had smiled brightly at him. "Draco needs someone who's not afraid to stand up to him. He would never be happy with a girl he could walk all over, though I don't believe he's realized that yet."

Harry had thought the whole idea was so ridiculous that he had told Luna, still just his girlfriend at the time, at dinner that night. However, her reaction was nothing like he had hoped.

_"Hmm, now that I think about it, he would be a good match for her," she had stated after a couple moments thought in which he wondered if she had even heard him (he could never tell when Luna was paying attention)._

For the second time that day he had tried not to choke on his beverage. "What?"

Luna's eyes had been focused on something only she could see. "He would be a challenge for her. Ron's a nice guy, but Hermione needs someone who isn't so simple. She needs someone complex to be happy."  
  
Harry hadn't been too worried about Luna's words because Malfoy had still had a little over a year of his Azkaban sentence left. He figured that she would forget the whole thing by the time he was free again.

He had been wrong.

Last week, Narcissa had joined them for dinner as she occasionally did since her return to the wizarding world and mentioned her excitement at having her son released from the prison. This had made Luna mention how perfect she believed Hermione and Malfoy were for each other. The two had then set about hatching a plot to get the two together, dragging him into it because he couldn't deny his wife anything.

"You haven't done anything wrong," Luna said softly, rubbing his arm and dragging him back to the present. "You merely put them in contact with each other. What happens now is entirely up to them."

"So you won't interfere?" he questioned suspiciously, raising his head to look at her.

Luna smiled dreamily. "I can't make any promises. Nor will Narcissa."

Harry sighed again. The hatred between Hermione and Malfoy still bothered him.

"He can be a decent guy," Luna stated surely, again zeroing on his concern. "I wouldn't listen to the Nigglewumpfs if I thought Hermione would be in danger. She's one of my best friends."

"I know that."

And he did; Luna had gone for far too long without friends to risk endangering one. There was something else that worried him about Luna and Narcissa's plan though.

"And don't worry about Ron," his wife stated insightfully, planting a kiss on his lips. "We don't even have to work out a plan for him; we just have to let nature take its course."

She kissed him again, more forcefully this time. Setting his worries aside, Harry stood and swept Luna up in his arms, carrying her to their bedroom.

"Hey, this is just like a fairytale!" she exclaimed, drawing a laugh from him.

A/N 2: Okay, when Luna states that Ron is simple, I don't mean stupid. I mean that he's very obvious about everything as opposed to complex like Malfoy is. Also, I will occasionally flip into Harry's POV, just to see what's happening on the plotting end of things. It won't happen every chapter though, only when I feel that it is relevant. Expect to see a lot of Narcissa, Luna, and Harry throughout. I'm trying to stay in character as best as I can, taking into account that some things (like Narcissa's attitudes) will have changed over the two and a part years that have passed since the war. Please let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Spoilers: Compliant with Deathly Hallows but ignores the epilogue.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Everything recognizable is owned by J.K. Rowling and I'm not her.

A/N: Thank you to the people who reviewed the first chapter. There weren't too many of you, so I want you to know how much I appreciate your encouragement. In keeping with my promise to never hold a chapter hostage for reviews, I'm continuing with the story, but please let me know if it's worth the effort. Now that I've disregarded all of my dignity and begged, here's chapter 2! I hope ya'll enjoy it. Please read and review! Thanks!

The instant the discomfort of apparition disappeared, Draco dropped his hold on Granger, who immediately pulled out those same sheets of parchment she had checked at the manor. Wishing desperately that he had his wand so that he could cast a cleansing charm and get rid of her Mudblood germs, he instead settled for glancing around the room they had landed in. The bile rose in his throat as he realized that he didn't recognize anything but the cabinets, table, and chairs. The rest of the items were probably Muggle in nature, but, aside from the furniture, the room didn't look like any dining room he had ever seen. The floor wasn't wood or stone and the walls were painted yellow except for the tile behind the sink (the only non-furniture that he recognized).

"Okay, so let me take you on a tour of your new house," Granger stated in that annoying know-it-all voice of hers. "This is the kitchen of course. The Ministry has provided you with a refrigerator, microwa..."

"This is the kitchen?" he asked with a sneer. "What kind of plebian eats in the kitchen?"

"You now, for one," Granger answered.

Draco didn't miss the amusement in her voice or on her face, even though she tried to hide it-she was a terrible actress. The fact that she was finding joy in his misery didn't help with his already dismal mood.

"I will not eat in the kitchen. I demand a dining room," he insisted.

He may be stuck in this shack, but he didn't have to live like a peasant.

"If you don't want to eat in the kitchen, then there's always the living room," Granger offered, clearly trying not to laugh at him, especially when the expression on his face grew even more horrified at the suggestion.

"I will not eat in the living room," he protested vehemently.

He watched Granger pretend to think and knew that she was messing with him (and enjoying it based on the way she kept biting back a smile).

"Well, then that only leaves the bedroom and the bathroom, but if you don't even want to eat in the kitchen I can't imagine you'll find either of those options suitable either," she finally said.

He fought back the terror that threatened to overwhelm him. _Four rooms?_ She expected him, the Malfoy heir, to live in only four rooms? _What sort of hell was this?_ And the bitch was still laughing at him; she had stopped even trying to hide it.

"You can redecorate as long as you do it the Muggle way and pay for it yourself," Granger got out between chuckles, gasping for air and holding a stitch in her side.

He shuddered. Redecorating was a witch's job, not a wizard's. And he certainly didn't intend to do anything the Muggle way that wasn't absolutely necessary for his survival. He shuddered again when he realized that redecorating the Muggle way would probably require manual labor.

"Absolutely not," he declared. "Malfoys do not perform manual labor."

He ignored the strange look that Granger cast his way (_that's right, he had only thought the manual labor part_) and glared at her. Any normal person would take one look at him right now and cower for fear of his retaliation, but not Granger. No, she just laughed harder at him. He always knew she was a freak.

"Malfoy, you're such an elitist snob," she accused, laughing so hard she snorted.

It was his turn to smirk at her in amusement. Granger had snorted and as her cheeks turned pink, he saw that she was embarrassed about it, so he had to point it out.

"Better that than a Mudblood who sounds like a pig when laughing," he pointed out cruelly.

He felt definite satisfaction when the bitch shut up with his words. She would learn her place over the next year.

"Oh, sod off, Malfoy," she remarked. "As I was saying before you provided me with proof positive that you desperately need this program, the Ministry has provided several appliances to make the next year as comfortable as possible. There's a refrigerator, microwave, oven, dishwasher, and blender. There is also a grill on the patio outside if you want to use it."

Draco had tried his best to ignore her, and, with his back to her, he did manage to ignore the way she was gesturing around the room. However, he couldn't tune out her irritating voice. He didn't understand many of the words though. He had, of course, heard of an oven before even if he'd never used or seen one, but most of it was complete gibberish. When she mentioned a dish washer, he glanced around the room. He was happy to hear that he would have at least one servant during his stay. Perhaps he could influence the dish washer to cook his meals and clean up the rest of the house. He didn't see anyone else, so he figured that the servant would arrive later that night. Maybe he would get lucky and she would be a hot witch that he could shag since his hopes for a shaggable guide had been crushed. Even if she was a Muggle, at least she would be in her proper place: working for him. Unlike uppity Granger. Who he just realized was staring at him, clearly expecting some sort of response.

"Whatever, Granger." He knew that response would be right for anything that Granger had said. And it would push her buttons because he knew she didn't like being dismissed.

As he had expected, she gave an annoyed huff. "Fine, Malfoy. Let me show you the living room. You're going to love it," she stated with a malicious grin, turning on her heel and striding out of the kitchen.

Dread flooding him because she seemed way too happy, he followed.

"What do you think?" Granger asked, humor in her voice, when he was standing next to her.

Draco stared around the room in renewed horror. The living room could have been the common room of the bloody Gryffindor house (at least he assumed so, having never actually been in the Gryffindor common room). The room was half the size of his bedroom back home with a couch, armchair, coffee table, and end table, all situated to face a strange black thing that was sitting in a large wooden cabinet. There was also a bookcase in one corner that was stuffed with books. The furniture and the carpet were both a dark red and the wood was a light gold color. Even the wallpaper was striped in red and gold. It was one of the most atrocious things he had ever seen, and he had been a Death Eater so that was saying a lot!

"I just love this color," Granger stated, moving away from him and running her fingers lightly along the back of the couch. "And the light wood really goes nicely with the depth of the red, don't you think?"

Yes, she was definitely enjoying this. Draco couldn't have that, so he shrugged his shoulders.

"I've never really minded the color red," he admitted drolly. "It's just an insult to the color to be associated with Gryffindor."

Biting back a smirk at the flash of anger in Granger's bland brown eyes, he felt like he had won this round.

"Then you'll really love your bedroom," she asserted brightly, throwing off his sense of accomplishment.

She led him into a small alcove in one corner of the living room and through the door that stood open there. He shuddered in disgust. The colors from the living room had carried into the bedroom. It was all red and golden wood and an absolute bloody nightmare of a Gryffindor theme. Draco had been telling the truth when he said that he didn't mind red, but this was too much. He preferred the overpowering color in sparing doses. The living room and bedroom looked like they were bleeding out, they were so saturated with the dark shade. The bedroom was also a disappointment in that it contained a single queen-sized bed (he had a king at home) and a short four drawer dresser in addition to the closet. He had noticed that none of the rooms contained art work of any sort or draperies, although rather ugly blinds did cover the windows.

Granger didn't comment on the bedroom; she merely led him to the attached bathroom. Glancing over at her as he assessed the room, he decided that the only reason she wasn't talking was because she was once again fighting laughter. He hated that she was having so much fun at his expense. The bathroom was unfortunately done in red and gold tones to match the bedroom.

Draco truly hadn't planned on redecorating the house, but he wasn't expecting to be shipped off to the altar of Gryffindor either. He was definitely going to have to put his backup plan into place, and he had been hoping to avoid that if at all possible.

He smirked at the thought. Oh, Granger was just going to love it.

"Come on, Malfoy."

ooooo

Hermione was having more fun than she had thought she would, especially given that she was with Malfoy. She hadn't expected him to be so unintentionally amusing, but perhaps she should have. When she had seen the pictures that Harry had included with her instructions upon arrival at the house, she had felt an immediate thrill. She had been very excited to see Malfoy's response to the fact that his house was decorated in Gryffindor style. He certainly hadn't disappointed her! And she knew that as she started laying out the rules for his stay and introducing him to Muggle technology, it was only going to get better. Looking forward to his reactions, she stifled her laughter and moved to the next item on the agenda.

"Come on, Malfoy."

He looked away from the bathroom, which he had been surveying with distaste, and quirked an eyebrow at her. Hermione felt a moment of worry at the smirk on his face, but shoved it aside. When she heard his stomach growl, she hid a grin by turning to lead the way back to the kitchen. Checking her watch, she saw that it was already well after six.

"While you cook dinner, I'll fill you in on the rest of the rules that the Ministry has set for your stay in the Muggle world," she offered.

They hadn't gone more than two steps when Malfoy nearly growled out, "You expect me to make my own dinner?"

Hermione paused and turned back to him. She nearly burst into laughter again when she saw the expression on his face-a combination of disgust, disbelief, and fury. Oh, he _really_ wasn't disappointing her.

"Of course. That's part of the deal; you learn to take care of yourself," she did grin now, adding in a sing-song voice, "all in the Muggle way."

Hermione's grin grew brighter when Malfoy looked at her as if he wished nothing more than for her to drop dead right there. She turned around and continued into the kitchen, Malfoy following her. She pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down, pulling her instructions from her pocket. When she noticed that the room was completely still, she glanced up and saw that Malfoy was standing in the doorway, looking surprisingly unsure of himself. Hermione was completely taken aback to feel a pang of sympathy for the snobby wizard-it had to be difficult to leave everything that he had ever known and try to start a new way of life that he didn't understand.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" she asked, her voice softer than before.

Perhaps registering the change in her tone, he narrowed his eyes at her. "Where is the dish washer you mentioned? I shouldn't have to cook my own dinner if I have a servant."

Just like that, her sympathy disappeared because she couldn't feel any sort of kindness for anyone who used that tone of entitlement.

"What do you mean? The dishwasher's right there."

She gestured in the direction of the white appliance, tucked under the counter next to the sink. His gaze followed her hand and he frowned.

"That's the dishwasher? Then, where is my servant?"

Malfoy sounded confused, and his confusion was stirring up Hermione's. His servant? What in the world was he talking about? She thought over what he had said, and when she put two and two together, began giggling.

"You thought the dish washer was...?" she choked out. "Oh, Merlin, there is no servant, Malfoy. It's a dishwasher, one word, not two, as in an appliance that washes dishes."

He appeared less than pleased to find her once again laughing at him. "Then how am I supposed to feed myself?"

Hermione covered her face to muffle her snort (she really hated that habit, and she had thought she had outgrown it until it started again today). Once the sound had passed, she dropped her hands.

"Merlin, Malfoy, you really are helpless, aren't you? Can you not even make a sandwich for yourself?"

Malfoy crossed his arms defensively. "I've never had to. The manor and school both have teams of house-elves and the prison had servants to cook for us."

Hermione rolled her eyes, got up, and moved to the refrigerator. "This is a refrigerator/icebox combo. Surely you know what that is? The wizarding world does have an equivalent to them, although there they are cupboards with permanent cooling and freezing charms placed on them." She pulled the door to the refrigerator open. "We keep non-frozen food that still has to stay cool in here to prevent spoilage. Frozen food is kept in the icebox behind the other door." She surveyed the contents and was pleased to find that the Ministry had provided ample ingredients. "Well, come over here and get out what you want for your sandwich."

"I'd prefer something hot," he rebutted obstinately.

"Well, I'd prefer you not burn the kitchen down and as I don't have time to teach you how to use the oven or microwave, you'll just have to settle for a sandwich tonight," she insisted, just as stubbornly.

He glared at her (and, really, did he think she was intimidated? He had directed that expression at her so often today that it didn't faze her in the least), but he still moved to the refrigerator and piled prepackaged chicken, cheese slices, tomato, lettuce, and mayonnaise into his arms. He carried all of his ingredients to a section of counter and dropped them, then he looked around in confusion.

"Bread's in the breadbox," she announced in a bored tone, retaking her seat at the table. "If you need a knife, there should be one in a drawer and plates in one of the cabinets."

While he rummaged around for the required dishes, she turned back to her instructions.

"Okay, as part of your rehabilitation..." she was cut off by the sound of her mobile ringing.

Snickering when Malfoy jumped, cursed, and dropped the plate he was holding, Hermione pulled the phone out of her pocket and checked the display. Ignoring the way the blonde wizard was looking wildly around the room, she answered.

ooooo

Draco couldn't believe the indignity he was suffering. He fumed as he searched through the cabinets and drawers, looking for a knife to use on the tomato and the mayonnaise and a plate for his sandwich. He was making his own dinner while a Mudblood sat right at the table and ordered him around. _She should have been doing the work_, he thought bitterly. He had just found a plate and was pulling it out of the cabinet when strange loud music burst through the room.

"Fuck!" Draco yelled, startling and dropping the plate.

As Granger started laughing at him (_again_), he scanned the room for the source of the noise. He was shocked when Granger pulled a little silver device out of her robes, flipped part of it up, stopping the music, and held it to her ear.

"Hi, Harry!" she answered in an annoyingly cheery voice.

Draco frowned. Was that a communication device?

"No, everything's going okay," she said into the object.

Apparently only she could hear who she was speaking to (Potter apparently). Draco bent down, retrieved the luckily unbroken plate, and set it on the counter. He had noticed glasses on a different shelf of the same cabinet, so he pulled one of those down too. He hoped that Muggles drank milk because he thought a glass would go well with his sandwich. He also took the bread out of a box sitting on the corner of the counter. While he built the sandwich, using the oddly identical chicken (at least that's what the label on the package said it was), he also listened in on Granger's half of her conversation with Potter.

"No, we've not killed each other; I'm more mature than that."

Draco smirked at that. Saint Potter was worried about them?

"I know it's late," Granger paused. "Well, then why didn't he call? Never mind. I swear, Harry, I spent all those weeks teaching him how to use his mobile and it was a complete waste of time. I don't think he's used it once."

Draco's ears perked up at that. Granger didn't sound happy.

"Fine. You can owl him that I'll be home as soon as possible." Another pause, then, "I will be. Give Luna my love. Bye."

Draco watched as Granger flipped the lid of the communication device closed, looking thoroughly disgruntled. It may have been short, but her exchange with Potter had been enlightening.

During his time in Azkaban, Draco hadn't kept up with the news about the so-called 'Golden Trio'. Quite frankly, he hadn't wanted to hear about how they were getting everything they ever wanted when he was stuck in prison for two years and looking at one year as a Muggle after release. So, he knew nothing about their lives after the final battle. In fact, he had only been assuming that Granger wasn't an Auror because she didn't have the badge on her robes. Since she hadn't corrected him, he must have been right.

However, that brief conversation had filled in some of the gaps in his knowledge. Potter was apparently involved with that weird blonde girl from Ravenclaw that had been held in his family's dungeon for several months (his rarely used conscience gave a slight squirm at the thought). He was surprised to hear that because he had thought that Potter would wind up with the Weaslette. The most intriguing information was the fact that Granger was clearly living with someone, a pureblood by the sounds of it if she'd had to teach him how to use the little communication box (he thought she'd called it a mobile). If it had taken her several weeks and the guy still didn't understand how to use it, then it had to be someone really stupid. _Oh, of course, she must be living with Weasley, _he mused, pouring himself a glass of milk.

Draco carried his sandwich and milk to the table and took the seat across from Granger. He watched her for a few moments. She was frowning down at the silver object, clearly unhappy. This was just too good to pass up.

"Problems at home? Weasley not satisfying you?" he asked, smirking. He also took a surreptitious look at her left hand. No rings, so the git hadn't proposed yet.

Her face turned blank. "That is none of your business, Malfoy."

His smirk grew with malicious delight. "I thought that even a plain Mudblood know-it-all like you would have better taste than Weasley." He tucked into his sandwich.

Although Granger's face remained bland, she clenched the fist holding up the parchment so tightly that the sheets crumpled on one side. "Not that it's any of your business, but I love Ron and we're quite happy together. Now, back to the business at hand," she changed the subject and he let her for now. "According to the Ministry's rules, all activity must be completed using Muggle methods. That includes cooking, cleaning, gardening, and redecorating if you choose to do so. While you are free, and indeed encouraged, to befriend Muggles," Draco sneered here, "you are not to have in-person contact with anyone from the wizarding world. If you wish to contact anyone within our world, I'd be happy to deliver the letters via owl for you. By the same token, all letters delivered to you by owl must come through me first. If your mother wishes to visit, she'll contact me and I'll bring her by for a supervised visit. These rules are in place to prevent unauthorized magic use via someone else's wand."

Draco watched her stop and take a deep breath. She had given all of the previous instructions in one breath, and he couldn't help but be impressed by her lung capacity, even if he was less than impressed with her words.

"Now, for the requirement you'll really enjoy," she stated as dread settled over him. "To ensure that you will mingle with the Muggles around you, the Ministry is forcing you to get a job in the community."

"What?" Draco exclaimed in rage after he had swallowed his bite. He had never planned to get a job; why would he when he was an heir with a fortune in gold just sitting in the vaults below Gringotts? "Malfoys don't work."

"This Malfoy does," she declared, waving her hand in his direction, "as did your mother during her year and as will your father during his. The Ministry should have the appropriate paperwork prepared for you within the next few days so that you can start applying for a job as soon as your Muggle training is complete."

She paused and Draco knew that she was waiting for him to act like a spoiled brat over the whole job thing again. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction, so instead he focused on the other part of what she had said.

"What do mean, my Muggle training?"

Clearly relieved that he hadn't argued, she smiled very slightly before answering. "I'll be here every day for the next several weeks to help you adjust to the Muggle world. I'll teach you how to use the Muggle inventions in the house, the facts about the world that all Muggles know, and some of the skills that might be valuable, in addition to answering any questions you may have. For instance, before I show up tomorrow, I'm going to have your gold transferred to Muggle money so that we can go shopping. You'll need Muggle clothing for the next year; robes simply won't do because Muggles, especially Muggle men, don't wear them. After we're done shopping, I'll help you learn how to cook and perform other simple chores around the house."

"So the quicker I learn to take care of myself the Muggle way, the less I have to see of you?" he clarified.

Granger nodded. "Exactly. So do learn quickly."

Draco was absorbing all of the information she'd given him when he thought of a problem. "What if an emergency comes up here? Am I just supposed to sit around and wait for you to visit?"

He watched her eyes focus on something beyond him and he could tell that she was thinking about his questions.

"You're right; that simply won't do. I'll speak with Harry about it tomorrow. I'm sure that I can get you a mobile and my number so that you can call if you need anything." Her big brown eyes refocused on him and he hid his confusion; he hadn't understood all of that (although he did at least have an inkling of what she was talking about). "That's it. I'll leave this parchment here for you; it has your new address on it." She stood up. "Start thinking of anything you want to know about the Muggle world and whether there are any particular Muggle skills you would like to learn."

Draco took another bite of his sandwich (it was actually quite good, oddly so for something so simple) and watched her push her chair in. He was glad the infuriating Mudblood was leaving. Even if she was going home to Weasley. He shook his head at the thought; for the supposedly brightest witch of their generation, she had horrible taste in men.

"Goodnight Malfoy. I'll be back around ten tomorrow morning, so be up and ready to go by then," she requested before turning on the spot and apparating with a soft, almost musical, pop.

Now that she was gone, Malfoy allowed a true smile to cross his lips. He had some work to do.

ooooo

Harry dropped his mobile on the end table and picked up the white container. He and Luna had worked up an appetite, so they were camped out on the couch, eating last night's leftover Chinese takeout.

"Do you feel better now that you know she's alive?" Luna asked with a grin, fishing a noodle out of her carton.

Harry sighed. "I guess." He ran a hand through his even messier-than-usual hair. "She's not happy with Ron right now though."

Remembering that he had to send Pig back to Ron with the note that Hermione was fine and would be home soon, he set his food down and grabbed a self-inking quill from the drawer in the end table. He wrote out his assurance on the back of Ron's note. It took several minutes to get the parchment attached to the tiny hyper owl, but eventually he managed it. Pig left through the open window and Harry returned to his seat next to his wife, who had been watching his struggle with Pig calmly.

"Oh, Hermione sends her love," he recalled.

"I know," Luna stated simply, stirring her fork through her container determinedly. "I think I ate all the beef."

Harry watched his wife for a moment before trading her cartons so that she could have the beef in his. He always had preferred the noodles anyway.

"How do you know? Did the Nigglewumpfs tell you that too?" he wondered. He never could tell what Luna would blame her creatures for.

Her fork, piled with beef, dropped back into her carton.

She laughed. "Don't be silly, Harry. The Nigglewumpfs only know the best romantic matches. I just don't need to be told that I have Hermione's love to know that I do." She reached over and placed her hand over his heart, her heat sinking through the bare skin of his chest. "You can feel it here. Don't you feel it too?"

Harry only understood about half of what Luna said on a good day, and he usually just smiled and nodded because he didn't want to crush her beliefs. This time, he actually thought about what she had said. He thought about his wife and their unborn child. He considered Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys, the closest thing he had to a family outside of the one he was building with Luna. Finally, his thoughts drifted to Hermione, his best friend and sister in all but blood. She was going through Malfoy's torture simply because he had asked her to, because it was important to him. His heart suddenly felt very full, not with his love for her (although that was nearly as immense as his love for Luna, if a different type), but with the sheer joy of knowing how much she must love him to put herself through that just for him. He couldn't help the large smile that broke across his face.

Luna, who had been watching him, almost seemed to glow. "You do feel it."

As she removed her hand and turned back to her dinner, Harry couldn't help but think that, yeah, some of what Luna believed and said was pretty ridiculous. But at other times, she's the smartest woman he knows.

ooooo

"Where have you been? Why did it take you so long?" Ron's voice rang out from the kitchen when Hermione stepped into their London flat.

Hermione couldn't help the futile hope that flowed through her that maybe Ron had cooked dinner for her, even though she didn't smell anything, and followed his voice into the other room. When she moved through the door, it was to find him standing in front of the open refrigerator, surveying the contents. She fought back the disappointment when she realized that there was no food waiting.

"Could you shut the fridge, Ron? You'll run up the electricity bill," she snapped.

He closed the door and turned to face her. "Merlin, Mione, what's up your bum?"

Her face contorted in disgust because that was a really awful visual image.

"Nothing's 'up my bum', Ron," she responded, dropping into a chair at their kitchen table. "You try spending more than fifteen minutes with Malfoy without being a bit testy afterward." She laid her head down on her folded arms.

When Ron dropped a kiss on top of her hair, Hermione smiled into her sleeve. Her smile grew when he began to rub her slumped shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Mione. How horrible was it?"

She lifted back into a sitting position. "It started out terribly. He tried to smuggle a lot of magical items out, and I had to remove them all before we could leave. It wasn't easy because he's really good at disguising them." Ron snorted as if he didn't believe that. "He really is Ron. He may be a complete prat, but he's not stupid. Narcissa's really nice though."

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, his hands stilling for a moment.

Hermione smiled. "Nope. She really is nice and when Malfoy tried to call me a Mudblood, she scolded him for it." Ron snickered. "Yeah, it was pretty funny."

Hermione proceeded to tell Ron all about the tour of the house and Malfoy's response when he learned that he had to cook for himself. Her boyfriend was very amused by all of this. For some reason, though, Hermione kept Malfoy's dishwasher mix-up to herself. She knew that Ron would think it was funny, but she also knew that it was exactly the sort of mix-up that Ron would have made himself, if they owned a dishwasher. She supposed she just didn't find it sporting for Ron to laugh at Malfoy for a mistake that he would have made too; it would just make Ron a hypocrite. He may not ever cook voluntarily, but Hermione was fairly sure that he would without complaint if she asked him to, so that story hadn't been off limits though.

"By the time I left, I think we had reached some sort of peace. We may not like each other, but I'm pretty sure that we can get along well enough to get through the next year without too much hassle," she admitted.

Ron removed his hands from her shoulders. "What are you talking about, Mione? You're getting along with the ferret? I don't like that."

Hermione had turned in her seat to find him pacing angrily behind her.

"What would you have me do, Ron? I'm stuck with him for the next year, so wouldn't you rather we get along than have me be miserable?" Hermione couldn't understand why he was so mad.

"Yes, of course I would," he said quickly, although his tone was grudging. "I just don't want you to get too close to Malfoy. He's a Death Eater and I don't trust him, especially not with your safety."

Hermione stood up and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend. Some things never changed.

"I'll be fine, Ron. I can take care of myself," she reassured him. "Plus, you can talk to me at any time while I'm with Malfoy." She pulled back and crossed her arms. "You just have to use your mobile."

He looked sheepish at the reminder. "Er, yeah, sorry about that. But at least you got to talk to Harry, eh?"

Hermione just shook her head. "Really, Ron, I spent all that time teaching you how to use your mobile and..."

He cut her off, "So, what's for dinner?"

_Men...always thinking about their stomachs_. She let the subject of his mobile go and offered, "As late as it is, we can either order in or have something quick, like sandwiches."

Ron wrinkled his nose at the suggestion of sandwiches. "How about pizza?"

"Sounds good to me. You order it," she announced, tossing her mobile to him. "Pepperoni and extra cheese, please."

Hermione ignored his protests and headed for their bedroom. She was going to change into something more comfortable than her business robes.

The rest of the night passed easily. Ron got over his ordeal with the phone and spent the rest of the night talking about his job and his partner. Hermione was happy enough to just sit back and let him talk tonight, because Auror talk was much more interesting than the Quidditch talk that she was usually subjected to. When his monologue eventually turned in that direction, she decided that it was late enough for her to go to bed and excused herself.

Ten minutes after she climbed under the covers, she heard the doorknob rattle which then turned into a pounding.

"Hey, Hermione, let me in!" Ron shouted through the door.

She sat up in bed and yelled back. "No! Maybe next time Harry asks me for a favor, you'll stick up for me!"

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" came his voice again.

"Try the couch!"

When she heard him cursing as he stomped away, she bit back a grin. Gotta love those unbreakable locking charms.

ooooo

Several miles away, in Canterbury, Draco stood in the middle of the living room and admired the handiwork. It had taken all night, but the house was livable now.

Heading to bed, Draco grinned. He couldn't wait to see Granger's response in the morning.

A/N 2: Okay, so the Harry/Luna scene wasn't exactly necessary, but so many of my reviewers mentioned that they liked seeing the two of them together that I couldn't resist. I also hope you enjoyed the insight into Hermione's relationship with Ron and her follow-through on her chapter one promise to herself. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Spoilers: Compliant with Deathly Hallows but ignores the epilogue.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling and I'm not her. Everything else recognizable is owned by their respective companies.

A/N: Thank you to the people who have reviewed this story so far. I forgot to include this in last chapter's A/N, so I want to include it now. I can't even express how much it means to me that so many readers of my Glee fics followed me into a completely different fandom. Seriously, it just blows my mind, especially for those of you who said that you've never read a Harry Potter fanfic before. Thank you so much! You're all just wonderful! Anyway, the games are really beginning between our leads in this chapter, so hopefully it'll be fun. I planned to get all of this day into one chapter, but it was longer than expected, so the rest of the day will be in the next chapter. This chapter flowed really easily for me and I had fun writing it, so I hope you all enjoy it. Please read and let me know what you think! Thanks!

When Hermione woke up to the alarm the next morning, she noticed two things immediately. First, she was alone in bed; that hadn't happened since she and Ron had started living together two months previously. Second, there was ball of dread in her stomach, but she couldn't for the life of her remember why. Sitting up, she stretched her arms out and turned off the alarm. She then slid out from under the covers and off the bed. Hermione padded across the worn brown carpet to her closet to find something to wear for the day. _What did she have planned again?  
_  
While she struggled to remember, the events of the previous day came rushing back to her. Oh, dear Merlin, she was Draco bloody Malfoy's guide to the Muggle world. She had spent most of the previous evening with him and today was their first big outing into the Muggle world. She was taking him shopping.

Hermione groaned. This was so not what she had planned to do with her time now that she had graduated from university (especially after all the effort she put in to graduate so early). No, she had planned to take on a teaching position, in the Muggle world, most likely, since her certificate was acceptable in either world. Instead, she was stuck baby-sitting the brattiest wizard to have ever graced Hogwarts. _ Well,_ she mused wryly, _it wasn't actually that much different from teaching first grade_ (and she should know; she had student taught it)_._

It wasn't as if her new job was without perks though. She still had to ask Harry if the position came with any sort of compensation, and she really hoped it did, or she might have to get a menial job right alongside Malfoy (who wasn't likely to qualify for anything else). No, the perk that she was thinking of was the requirement to wear Muggle clothing. That was one thing that Hermione had decided last night before she fell asleep. She was going to do her very best not to use magic when she was with Malfoy. Her theory was that if she set a good example, it would be easier for him to cooperate with the rules. The only exceptions that she was allowing herself were in cases of emergency and in order to travel to his house each day since it was a good hour to Canterbury from London by train. Of course, if she had to travel with Malfoy outside of Canterbury for any reason, they'd have to do it the Muggle way.

Back to the Muggle clothing. Hermione shoved her robes to one side so that she could get a better look at her Muggle choices. She, like Harry, was actually much more comfortable in Muggle clothing than in the robes favored by the magical community. Ron preferred his robes, as did most of the Weasleys, but Hermione had gotten both Luna and Ginny to continue wearing Muggle clothing even though adults traditionally wore naught but robes. Now all three girls, plus Harry, were to be found running around in comfortable jeans, T-shirts, and jumpers whenever they didn't have to visit the Ministry or attend some other function that required robes. In fact, the only reason she had worn robes yesterday was because of her visit to Harry's office for what she had expected to be an official Ministry offer to help reform the Auror training program.

Pulling one of her favorite jumpers off its hanger, she mused over the one true advantage that she had found in the media's constant watching of her, Harry, and Ron. Muggle fashions were much more en vogue now than they used to be thanks to two-thirds of the 'Golden Trio' (_Gods, she hated that name_) constantly being seen in Muggle clothing in public. It was common now to see adult witches in Muggle dresses and both witches and wizards in jeans and T-shirts (Mr. Weasley had been one of the first to embrace the new fashions). There were many holdouts still, but the community was slowly coming around for the simple fact that Muggle clothing was so much more unique than robes, which only came in a limited number of cuts and styles.

Once Hermione had picked out her clothing, she took the locking charm off the door so Ron could get in and crossed the hall to the bathroom. While she was in the shower, she planned out her day. She knew that it was going to be fairly busy. She had to stop by the Ministry and check with Harry about getting a mobile for Malfoy, and while she was there she would ask if this was a paying job, especially if she had to be available at all times for emergencies. Then she'd pop by Gringotts and exchange Malfoy's gold, and some of her own; she may as well get her mum's birthday present since she was going to be shopping anyway. Her next stop would be Malfoy's. She really hoped that he would already be up and ready as she'd told him to be, but she wasn't counting on it. _He probably doesn't even know how to take a shower without a house-elf to help him_, she thought with a quiet snort. Luckily, they should be able to do their shopping right there in Canterbury. She really didn't want to have to spend an hour each way on a train with him to come to London. Once they finished and returned to his house, they'd start on his Muggle lessons in earnest.

Hermione got out of the shower and pulled on her underthings, followed by a pair of comfortable blue jeans, a white tank top, and her purple chenille jumper. She ran a comb through her wet curls before braiding them back. She had to do it while it was wet because she'd never be able to control her hair enough to do so dry. She applied the most basic makeup, just a little mascara and a touch of rose lip gloss. She was glad that she had been blessed with a mostly flawless complexion because she hated foundation and powder. She wasn't a fan of makeup to start with, but she really hated those two products; they made her skin feel itchy when she had to wear them at formal functions. Grabbing a pair of socks from her dresser and her black hiking boots from her closet on her way through the bedroom, Hermione exited into the living room.

When she reached the end of the couch, she smiled at the sight of her boyfriend. He was sprawled on his stomach in his boxers and undershirt, his head on one arm and his legs dangling over the other. She wrinkled her nose when she saw the puddle of drool under his partially open mouth. That was one of her least favorite things about sharing a bed with Ron. He drooled and with the sheer amount of hair that she had, she inevitably woke with some of that liquid in it. It was part of the reason why she always took her showers in the morning. When he made a rather loud snorting noise, she grabbed one of his shoulders with her free hand and gave it a shake.

"Time to get up, Ron."

He mumbled something that she couldn't understand and slapped her arm away. Rolling her eyes, Hermione moved to the front of the couch and pressed the same hand to the middle of his back, jostling him again. This time, he tried to roll over but given the limited width of the couch, he instead rolled right off. Hermione jumped backward, out of the way. Ron landed on the carpeted floor with a loud thud and immediately leaped up, staring around in panic.

"What 'appened?" he asked groggily when his eyes landed on her.

She grinned and dropped her boots on the floor. "It's nearly eight. You need to get ready for work."

She sat down and began to pull on her socks and shoes. He stared down at her.

"Where are you off to?"

"I have to stop by Harry's office and Gringotts, and then I'm off to start Malfoy's Muggle lessons," she responded, tying her laces.

"Oh, right, Malfoy," he grumbled. "When will you be home?"

Hermione stood up and moved to grab her purse and Malfoy's gold from the table next to the front door. "I'm not really sure. As soon as possible, but that really depends on how quickly we finish shopping, how easily Malfoy learns, and how many questions he has for me."

"What do I do for dinner if you're late again?" Ron whined.

She faced him. "You could cook something for a change. Your mum taught you the proper spells even if you don't want to do it the Muggle way."

He made a face at that. "Maybe I'll just grab something at one of the places nearby."

Hermione set her hands on her hips. "Ron, we don't have the money to do takeout every night. You already do it every day for lunch," she reminded him sternly. "I don't even know if the Ministry is paying me for my time baby-sitting Malfoy and until I'm done with my favor to Harry, I can't get a job." She glanced at her watch which showed that it was five 'til eight. She wanted to catch Harry right as he came in. "Oh, now I'm running late," she moaned.

"Go then. I'll figure something out for dinner," Ron stated, waving her off before heading down the hall to the bedroom.

Hermione apparated out. It was only as she reached the Ministry lobby that she realized he hadn't kissed her goodbye for the first time since they started dating.

ooooo

"Hey, Harry, do you have a moment?" Hermione asked several minutes later, hurrying up to where he was standing in the hall outside of his office speaking with Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Oh, hi, Kingsley."

"Sure, Hermione. Give me a minute to finish up," Harry agreed with an easy smile while Kingsley nodded in greeting.

Hermione entered the office and, instead of sitting in front of his desk, moved behind it. She surveyed the few photos on his desk with a grin. There was one of Harry and Luna during their first dance on their wedding day, looking blissfully happy, one of her, Harry, and Ron from fourth year, and one of their little group of six from fifth year, taken in the hospital wing shortly after the Ministry ordeal. Hermione and Ron had still been under Madam Pomfrey's care when Colin Creevey had snapped that photo. She felt a pang of sadness as she thought of the young photographer-another life lost in the war to protect his very right to exist as a Muggleborn.

Hermione shook the melancholy thought off and picked up the last picture on the desk. She was pretty sure this one hadn't been here the day before, so Harry must have brought it in with him this morning. She felt a bit teary-eyed when she saw that this photo was also from his wedding day, but it was a picture of her and Harry. She remembered the moment captured in the photo clearly despite the fact that the wedding had been just over five months ago, in mid-April. The wedding had been held in a small church in Godric's Hollow with the reception at Hogwarts with permission-a happy event to help offset the school's memories of the final battle. Harry, never a fan of crowds, and even less so after the war, had snuck out of the reception. Hermione, worried about how he was handling the stress of the day and the location, had followed.

_"What are you doing out here Harry?" she had asked, approaching him where he sat on a large rock next to the lake._

"I just needed to get away from everyone," he had replied.

He had scooted over and made room for her to sit on the rock with him, and she had taken the unspoken invitation.

"You're very lucky, you know. Luna's wonderful for you; I've never seen you happier," she had said, a smile on her face.

He had given her a smile so full of love at the mention of his new wife that she'd had no doubt that they'd be together forever.

"I know. I've never been happier," he'd responded.

They'd sat quietly for a few moments until she'd started to shiver. April in Scotland was still very chilly and her maid-of-honor dress had been short-sleeved. Harry had curled one arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his body heat. It had been such a nice experience, especially because she could remember a time when he wasn't comfortable expressing affection physically. In that moment, she had realized that he'd truly grown up; he was no longer the affection starved boy who saved her from a troll in the girl's loo. She'd been so proud of him; he'd saved the world and found his happy ending. And she couldn't have picked anyone better for him than Luna. Sitting there with him, staring out at the water, she'd felt a pang as she'd realized that she was losing the man she'd grown to think of as her brother. He must have noticed the shift in her mood.

"What's wrong, Hermione?"

"Nothing."

She hadn't wanted to ruin the happiest day of his life with her silly insecurities, but she also hadn't been able to fight her tears. She had tried to fight him when he tipped her face up to his.

"You're crying," he had accused.

"Yeah," she'd admitted. There was no point in denying what he could see.

"Why?" he'd been clearly confused.

She had shaken her head. "It's silly, really. It's just that for years it was just the three of us, you, Ron, and me. And now, you're all grown up and married. I feel like I've been left behind."

"But you've got Ron."

"Yeah." She hadn't wanted to tell him that she wasn't sure how serious Ron was about her.

"And I'm not going anywhere, not really," he'd pointed out before adding, "and Luna loves you, even when the two of you fight. She said that it feels just like she has a sister, right down to the occasional arguments."

Hermione had smiled at that because she had felt the same way about the blonde. She had always wondered if that was what it was like to have a sister; during the time since the war ended, Hermione had grown closer to Luna than even Ginny.

"Alright, time to face the people again," Harry had announced, getting to his feet.

_Before Hermione had even realized his plans, he had scooped her onto his back, causing her to squeal and wrap her legs around his waist so that she wouldn't fall off. He had then carried her piggyback up to the castle. _

The picture kept replaying the moment where he picked her up and started up to the castle, almost like a tape stuck on repeat. She hadn't even been aware that anyone had taken a photo of them.

"Luna took that picture of us. She said that it was, and I quote, 'a moment I just couldn't resist capturing for eternity.' I didn't even know she'd taken it until we got our pictures from the wedding developed," Harry said from the doorway, snapping Hermione out of her memories.

"Really? That was sweet of her," Hermione murmured with a smile, setting the picture back down on the desk.

Harry nodded, coming further into the room and sitting down in his desk chair while Hermione rounded the desk to the seat in front of it. The two of them were silent for a moment, each lost in their thoughts, before Harry spoke.

"I don't think I've ever said it, Hermione, but I'm glad I have you," he blushed bright red and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "You're my sister every bit as much as Luna's, you know that, right?"

Hermione blinked back tears. Harry had never said anything like that to her; it was something that she had always assumed, but it remained unspoken.

"Thank you Harry. I do know that, but it's nice to hear," she almost whispered, trying not to cry.

Harry cleared his throat and moved the conversation into much more comfortable territory. "So what are you doing here this morning? Did you have a problem with Malfoy last night after we talked?"

"No," Hermione denied, her voice still rough with emotion. "Everything went as well as can be expected; he is Malfoy after all." She made a face before continuing, "Actually, I have a couple of questions. The first comes from Malfoy. He wants to know what to do in case of emergency since he doesn't have his wand. I think it would be a good idea to give him a mobile so that he can reach me if there's something wrong or if he has a question. Plus, I can teach him about emergency services that way." She looked at Harry expectantly.

He nodded. "I actually have a mobile right here; I just forgot to give it to you yesterday." He started digging through one of his drawers. "Your number and my number are programmed into the address book so that even if he can't get you he can hopefully reach me. Narcissa chose to keep her phone after her year was up, so her number is in there as well." He slid the small device across the desk to her.

"He should like that if I can get him to actually use the thing," Hermione acknowledged with a smile. "The other thing I wanted to ask is: do I receive any compensation for serving as his liaison for the next year?"

"Crap," Harry muttered. "I forgot to tell you that yesterday too. Yeah, for the length of your assignment with him, you're considered an employee of the Auror Department. Technically speaking, I'm your supervisor because Kingsley gave the instructions that I was to head up the rehabilitation project for both of the remaining Malfoys. At my request, of course."

"The joys of being friends with the Minister," Hermione said cheerily. "So this means I'll receive a check then?"

After Harry confirmed it, they went over the papers for her new position and she signed them all, making her an official, though temporary, employee of the Ministry. Once they were done, Hermione gave Harry a quick hug and left. She had half an hour to get to Gringotts and then to Malfoy's if she wanted to be on time. _Thank Merlin for apparition!_

ooooo

When Hermione first arrived at Malfoy's, she thought that she'd accidentally apparated into the wrong house. Cheeks red with embarrassment over the gaffe (_what if the Muggle living here had caught her?_), she had apparated again, only to land in the exact same room, just two feet over. Her confusion had quickly been replaced by a rising fury. _What had the ferret done?  
_  
The living room, which had been respectable, if a bit small, had doubled in size and the furnishings had been changed to a masculine black leather with dark wood accents. Several additional pieces had been conjured to fill the extra space that had been added. In fact, the electronics, including the lights, were the only items untouched. The color of the carpet and the wallpaper had also been altered.

Hermione moved into the kitchen only to find that it too had been changed. The differences weren't as drastic here; it was as if whoever had made the changes hadn't been sure about the appliances, so most of the kitchen had been left untouched. In fact the only changes she could see were that the linoleum of the floor had changed to a dark wood, the table and chairs had been removed, and there was an extra doorway in addition to the back door and the one that led to the living room. Hermione moved through that door and found herself in a dining room. It was small to suit the four person table and chairs that had been provided with the house. Another thought hit her, and, panicked at what she would find, Hermione ran back through the kitchen and out the back door into the yard. She stepped back to look at the house and was highly relieved to find that it looked exactly the same from the outside as it had the previous day. Whoever had altered the house for Malfoy (because it couldn't have been him; she was quite sure she had taken his only wand) had apparently cast the same expansion charm that had been on the tent the boys and her had taken with them for their Horcrux hunt.

Now that her panic had been appeased, Hermione hurried back inside the house, her rage returning. He had obviously broken the rules (_broken? Heck, he'd shattered them!_) and she was going to confront him about it.

When she reached his bedroom, expanded of course, she hurried over to his bed to find him still fast asleep. Hermione contemplated several rude awakenings for him before settling for the same classic Ron had that morning. Whipping out her wand, she sent a burst of energy at Malfoy that knocked him off the opposite side of the bed (and, okay, so maybe that broke her no magic rule, but if he could break the rules then so could she).

ooooo

Draco had been having the most pleasant dream involving himself, two blondes, and some chocolate sauce when he had hit the floor with a painful thump and woke up.

"Ow!" he yelled, hopping to his feet and looking wildly around for his wand before he remembered he didn't have a wand and his eyes settled on Granger. She was standing on the other side of his bed and she looked _pissed_.

"Damn it, Granger! What if I'd been starkers?" he shouted, coming around the bed to face off against her.

Her lip curled. "Then I guess I would have been scarred for life by your lily-white ass."

A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it. He blamed the unexpectedness of hearing goody-two-shoes Granger swear; it definitely wasn't because her response had actually been funny. And he definitely wasn't disappointed that she didn't even look like she wanted to scan his body, which was bare except for his boxers. That made her a major freak; no normal girl could resist his body, especially when he was mostly naked.

"Why'd you shove me out of bed?" he snarled, taking a threatening step forward, a little put out that his body had no effect on her.

"Why do you think I shoved you out of bed?" she parried right back, not the least bit intimidated. "You want to tell me what the hell you did to the house last night?"

If she was cursing, then he had really gotten to her. He smirked. "I just did a little redecorating. Like it?"

He smirked even wider when she growled, actually growled. Hell, that was even better than he had hoped for when he'd decided to put his backup plan into play.

"No, I don't like it," she said through gritted teeth. "This is so against the rules that I could probably have you thrown back into Azkaban if I wanted."

Draco's pulse picked up. He may have complained about having to live in the Muggle world for a year, but he sure as hell didn't want to wind up back in Azkaban. He was kind of liking the freedom of having a private bathroom. For the first time, he realized how very much his life was in Granger's hands, but he wouldn't back down.

"You don't have any proof that I did anything wrong," he pointed out stubbornly.

"Not that you know of," she commented, pulling that little communication device she had used last night out of her purse.

He shrugged and moved to the dresser to get some clothing, but he was curious, so he listened carefully to her.

"Hi, Harry. It's Hermione. I've got a little problem with Malfoy. The house was magically expanded and redecorated overnight. Can you check with the Misuse of Magic office and let me know if they picked up any traces of magic in the house last night? I left shortly after seven, so have them check after that time. Please give me a call back as soon as you find out. Thanks and I'll talk to you later!" she said in one long breath.

Draco's curiosity was stirred. "How are you going to know if any magic was cast here? The trace gets removed automatically when wizards turn seventeen."

She scowled at him. "I know that. I was able to modify the trace to attach to a property as opposed to a person. The Ministry's used it for everyone who's undergone the Muggle Rehabilitation Program. It picks up any magic within the boundaries of the property that's cast by a human, whether or not a wand is used."

"So it wouldn't have mattered if I'd gotten my wand past you then?" he asked in understanding.

"Nope," she confirmed. "The Misuse of Magic office would have gotten notification the instant you cast a spell with it." She frowned at him. "We have a lot to do today, so do whatever you need to get ready."

She left him by himself in the room. Draco was completely stunned. He felt something strange, an emotion that he only associated with his mum, dad, and closest friend. It took him a moment to realize that it was respect. _What the hell?_ She's a Mudblood; he can't respect her. Still, an internal voice that had been dormant since the war ended, the voice he recognized as his conscience, hissed at him. Why shouldn't he respect her? She had modified the trace, a Ministry spell that had been in use for centuries, to cover a property instead of a person. And, the voice continued, she had managed to separate the origins of the magic it could trace. No longer would the Ministry blame a wizard for a house-elf's magic.

Draco ruthlessly shut the voice down. He wouldn't soften toward Granger; he already knew she was smart. She was a know-it-all, but that was just because she had always buried herself in books. So, ignoring the voice that reminded him that modifying the trace hadn't been something she could learn in a book, he headed for the shower.

Several minutes later he climbed out and dressed in his boxers and robes. When entered the bedroom, his jaw dropped. It was exactly as it had been when he first saw it the day before. He moved into the living room and was horrified to find that it had also been changed back. He'd only been in the shower for fifteen minutes; it had taken hours to redecorate last night. How had she turned it all back so quickly? He arrived in the kitchen just in time to watch her levitate the table and chairs back into place before getting rid of the dining room.

"What did you do?" he cried in outrage. "Do you know how long it took to get things how I wanted them?"

She cast a cold look in his direction. "No, and I don't really care. It was against the rules set out for you by the Ministry. I was very clear yesterday about the fact that you have to redecorate the Muggle way. I'm just setting things back to rights. Now, before we leave, do you want to make yourself some breakfast?"

He was shaking in anger that she would so easily disregard all of last night's hard work. "No, I'm not hungry."

"Alright," she said with a shrug. "Let's go then."

ooooo

Thirty minutes later, Draco wished that he hadn't let his anger get the best of him. He was really hungry; he should have at least had some toast and jam before leaving the house. He was also starting to feel a little chilly because they were shopping outdoors. Granger had wrestled him into something that she called a taxi. He had fought not to scream like a girl as the Muggle had moved them through the streets, stopping, starting, and avoiding other taxis. When they had arrived somewhere that Granger had referred to as the Whitefriars shopping centre, they had gotten out of the taxi and Granger had paid the man. She had handed Draco his new Muggle money and then led him down the street, passing several large windows, each displaying clothing, furniture, books, and other items.

The street was even more crowded than Diagon Alley in August. For the first several minutes, Draco had done his best to avoid making physical contact with the Muggles around them, but he had eventually realized that it was impossible. So, vowing to shower the instant he got back to his house, he had chosen to relax as best he could and just go with it. Draco had begun to worry that he was going to lose Granger, and as much as he didn't like her, he didn't want to get stranded here in the Muggle world without her.

Now, Draco was hungry, caged in by Muggles, and being stared at (and not because of his good looks like he was used to). This trip had reinforced why Granger had insisted on bringing him shopping for new clothing. Muggles didn't wear robes; he stood out in the crowd because of how he was dressed. He was starting to get impatient to buy a new outfit just to stop the looks he was getting; the sort of looks that said he should be in the long-term ward at St. Mungo's with Lockhart.

Draco came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk and realized that he'd been so focused on his thoughts that he had lost sight of his guide. Turning on the spot, he scanned the crowd for the familiar bushy hair. Shit, he should have paid attention to what she was wearing and, now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember if her hair had even been down. Where was she? Surely she wouldn't just take off and leave him here by himself. He was starting to panic as he scanned the crowd frantically when he felt a small warm hand on his. He looked down to find Granger staring up at him (he had never realized how much taller than her he was).

"Come on Malfoy. We need to try not to get separated again."

Wrapping her hand around his, she started to pull him down the street. Normally Draco would have reprimanded her for touching him, but he didn't want to lose her, not here, so he let her guide him into a nearby store.

He determinedly ignored the weird tingle running up his arm.

ooooo

Hermione's day wasn't going anything like she had expected. For one, she hadn't meant to get an eyeful of Malfoy's chest, but how was she supposed to know that he slept in his boxers? It had taken all of her willpower not to stare at him during their whole conversation. She had heard the rumors about him whispered in the girls' loos back at school, and, although she had mostly ignored them, she had occasionally wondered if the rumors about him being a sex god were true. When she had seen him in naught but his boxers that morning, that curiosity had come rushing back. So, while he was still out of it right after he had jumped up from the floor, she had taken the chance to look at him. His body still reflected his time on the Quidditch team and Azkaban didn't seem to have diminished that in the least. When she realized that she was checking out _Malfoy_, she had felt instantly guilty, as if she had cheated on Ron. She had a perfectly good boyfriend at home; she shouldn't be scoping out other guys, especially not guys that she loathed. So she had tried to completely ignore his near nudity for the rest of the confrontation (okay, so she may have sneaked a look at his nicely muscled back while she was leaving her message for Harry when Malfoy was rummaging through his dresser, but that was just one tiny slip).

She had spent the rest of the time at the house undoing all of the spells that had been cast on it. She had to set the place back to normal because she certainly couldn't let him keep his illegal modifications. She also felt considerably more normal when these actions made Malfoy mad at her.

The shopping trip had been entertaining so far. She could tell that the taxi ride had terrified him, and then he had spent all of that time trying to avoid the Muggles around them as if he thought they'd contaminate him the instant they made contact. Plus, he was drawing strange looks from others and she knew that he wasn't used to that.

When they'd gotten separated, she'd begun to panic. Harry would have her head if she lost Malfoy, and she'd never forgive herself for failing Harry. Luckily, his white blonde hair stood out in the crowd, so she hadn't had too difficult a time finding him again. She'd kept a hold on his hand after that, just to make sure that she didn't lose him again. That had been a really weird feeling.

That had been a couple of hours ago. Malfoy had since bought several new Muggle outfits. He had changed into the first pair of jeans and jumper that he had bought. She had to admit that he had better taste than Ron when it came to clothing, even with no idea about what was fashionable among Muggles. He was checking out shoes in the Fenwick department store when her mobile rang. This time, he didn't jump, merely glanced over at her before going back to his shopping. Hermione pulled out her phone and was happy to see that it was Harry. She flipped it open.

"Hi, Harry," she answered, moving slightly away from Malfoy but still keeping him in sight.

"Hi, Hermione. I've got the results of the question you asked," he skipped the small talk and went straight to the heart of the matter.

"Oh, good. What did they say?"

She heard a car in the background on his end and knew that he had stepped outside of the Ministry to call her back. Their mobiles didn't work in heavily concentrated areas of wizards and magic. His voice was low when he answered.

"They didn't find any trace of magic after a final apparition at 7:12 PM. I'm guessing that's when you left?"

Hermione nodded, realized he couldn't see her, and said, "Yeah. That sounds right." She sighed and lowered her own voice so as not to be heard by either the Muggles around her or Malfoy, who still seemed engrossed in the shoe selection. "There was definitely magic in use at that house last night. And if it wasn't a wizard..."

"You think it was a house-elf?" Harry finished her thought for her.

"Yeah. Heaven knows he has enough contacts who could send him a house-elf. Can you put the other trace I created in place? The one that'll track elf magic?"

"Sure," Harry affirmed. "Full boundaries of the property again, right?"

"Yeah. How long will it take for you to get word if they detect usage?"

"It should only take as long as the Patronus needs to reach me, so nearly instantly," he explained.

Hermione smiled. "Great. If they contact you, call me on my mobile. I want to catch Malfoy red-handed and find out who's helping him break the law."

Harry laughed. "You've got it. I've gotta go; I was supposed to meet Ron for lunch at the Leaky, but I had to call you back first. Bye, Hermione."

"Bye, Harry."

Hermione hung up her phone and rejoined Malfoy. She was happy to have a plan in place; he wouldn't know what hit him.

ooooo

Draco wondered if he should be worried when they stepped out of the very large store, new sneakers added to his growing collection of bags, along with a couple of new shirts. Granger had seemed awfully happy when she got off her communication device. He wondered if it had been Potter contacting her. Maybe it had been Weasley. The two were living together, but he also remembered how upset she had been the previous night and how she had told Potter that she didn't think Weasley had ever used his mobile thing. It must have been Potter then, which led him back to wondering if he should worry about the way her mood had lifted after she put the device back into her purse.

A wonderful scent assaulted Draco's nostrils. It smelled like food and he was hungry; he still hadn't eaten yet today. His stomach protested its emptiness loudly and Granger giggled (_giggled, like a normal girl!_) next to him.

"Are you hungry, Malfoy?"

He frowned down at her but nodded.

"I bet that's what you're smelling," she commented, pointing to a nearby building across the street with a sign that said Burger King on it. "It's Muggle food, but if you think you can lower yourself that far, we can stop and grab some lunch."

"I'm hungry enough that I'd even eat something that Weasley cooked right now," he admitted.

"Then you'd starve," she stated, leading him across the street to the restaurant.

"What do you mean?" He dodged two small children who were running through the crosswalk and then a woman who chased after them, calling their names.

Granger looked over her shoulder at him, sidestepping an elderly man. "Ron doesn't cook. He knows how, unlike you, but he doesn't use the knowledge."

Draco wondered why she had told him that. Surely she knew that was like giving him a wand and telling him which spell Weasley hated to have cast on him most. When she reached for the handle on the door, Draco beat her to it and pulled it open for her. She cast him a startled look and then smiled, moving past him with a quiet thank you. He wondered briefly if Weasley ever held doors open for her because she hadn't looked like it was normal for someone to show that courtesy. Yeah, Draco was usually a jerk, especially to Granger (he hadn't held a single door for her all day), but his mum had taught him how to be a gentleman. He bet Weasley wasn't cultured enough to know how to treat a woman, even one like Granger.

The restaurant was a very odd one. Instead of sitting down to be served, Granger led him to a counter where they waited in line behind several Muggles. They stood there quietly, Draco studying the menu above the counter and Granger watching the people around them. He had made up his mind by the time they reached the counter. Granger ordered first and paid for herself; Draco was actually pleasantly surprised by that. No matter who he was with when he went to a restaurant in the past, he was always expected to pay. His best friend was the only one who had ever paid for himself, and sometimes for Draco too when they took turns paying. He had definitely never shared a meal out with a girl who didn't make him pay. When Granger moved to one side, he gave his own order to the man behind the counter. Draco watched with interest as he pushed around on the unfamiliar object in front of him and then set a plastic tray next to Granger's with an odd style of parchment on it. It was very colorful, like a painting, but it wasn't a painting. When Draco had to pay him, he was very glad that he had paid close attention to the money lesson that Granger had given him in the first store.

When their food and a paper cup had been placed on each of their trays, Granger showed him how to get his drink from the machine. He was highly amused by the ice dispenser and then confused. He didn't recognize any of the options. There wasn't a choice for pumpkin juice or milk. There was only one thing to do.

"Hey, Granger, what are these?" he asked, gesturing to the options. She was already filling her cup with a clear, bubbly liquid.

She smiled at him. "Oh, sorry, I forgot that you wouldn't recognize soda. It's a carbonated drink that comes in different flavors." She gestured at her own cup. "This is Sprite; it's citrus flavored. I can't really describe the taste of the others; you'll just have to try them."

He pressed the buttons on each choice experimentally. One was orange, most were brown, and then there was the clear one that Granger had chosen.

"Oh!" she interjected, drawing his attention. "There's iced tea in that container over there if you'd rather have something more familiar. I'm going to find a seat. You don't have to sit with me if you don't want to, just don't leave the restaurant without me."

Draco watched her walk away. He turned back to his beverage choices. He could go with the choice he knew or he could be brave and pick one of the Muggle drinks. Something in him wanted to rebel; why shouldn't he? He'd already spent hours with Muggles and a Mudblood. He was eating Muggle food, so why not try a Muggle drink too? He picked one at random called Coke (there were two dispensers instead of one, so he thought it must be fairly good) and filled his cup.

Draco turned around to find somewhere to sit. He spotted Granger in a small booth in one corner, head buried in a paperback book that she must have had in her purse. He didn't really want to sit with her and he liked that she wasn't making him, but at the same time, he wasn't really comfortable enough in the Muggle world to sit by himself. Decision made, he joined her.

When he slid onto the bench across from her, she looked up in surprise but didn't say anything. He pointedly looked away from her to watch the people around them and she went back to her book. He was shocked at how much the Muggles here acted just like the wizards and witches at the restaurants in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. While he was shopping, he hadn't had the chance to really watch the Muggles around him but now that he had the chance, he was surprised at how normal they all seemed. There were really young kids playing, adults arguing, others talking and laughing together, and a couple about his age who kept leaning across the table to kiss. It was a very familiar atmosphere; if he hadn't known better, and they hadn't been wearing Muggle clothing instead of robes, he never would have known that these people were Muggles. It was eye-opening. He still knew that he was superior to them-he could do magic after all-but maybe they weren't the animals he had been raised to believe they were.

With that idea in mind, he turned his attention to the girl across the table from him. She was focused fully on her book, so he took his time examining her. Granger had grown up since the last time he saw her, at his trial. She had a thick braid thrown over one shoulder of her loose purple jumper. He wondered for a moment whether she had curves hidden under there, but shook that thought off. He definitely wasn't going to contemplate Granger's body. Taking a bite of his burger, he watched as she absently bit into one of her chips, never taking her eyes off her book. He was startled to see that her teeth were normally sized, even, and white. When had that happened? He remembered her as having overly large front teeth.

He wasn't sure how long he had been staring when her big brown eyes met his silver ones. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"When did your teeth get normal?" he blurted out and then could have cursed himself for doing so.

Granger scowled. "Fourth year. Your curse at Harry hit me, Snape insulted me, and I went to Madam Pomfrey. She shrunk my teeth for me to correct the damage you had done."

He remembered that incident. Her teeth had gotten past her collar before she had taken off. He snickered at the memory.

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh, ferret," she muttered, turning back to her book.

The reminder of his most embarrassing fourth year incident stopped his laughter. His face pink, he took his first drink of his Coke. It tasted good but the bubbles tickled and made him sneeze and then hiccup. Granger glanced up at him and started giggling until she snorted. Her cheeks turned pink to match his. Their eyes met again and they both started laughing. It felt odd to laugh with Granger (he'd spent so much time laughing at her), but also...okay. He thought that he could get used to having a truce with her. The next year would probably be more pleasant at the very least. He wasn't going to be the one to suggest it though.

When Granger set her book aside and started explaining their plans for the rest of the afternoon, he wondered if maybe he didn't have to suggest a truce.

Maybe she didn't need the words.

A/N 2: There we go; the first half of their first full day together. Next chapter will start Draco's Muggle lessons. Will their truce be able to survive that? I don't know; I haven't planned that far. I usually just sit down to write with a general outline of what I want to cover in the chapter and see what comes out as far as how my characters handle it (that's how I wound up with the scene where they get separated). Also, no Luna, but I hope you enjoyed the flashback to Harry's wedding. Info on the trace was based on what I took away about it from DH. I also want to let ya'll know that I did some research on the internet for where they could shop in Canterbury and found the Whitefriar shopping centre, which is an outdoor shopping area. I used the map on the Whitefriar site to find that the Burger King is right across the street from Fenwick, but I'm not sure which street the department store opens onto (though if it's anything like the ones here, it probably has an entrance onto each street it faces). I live in the middle of Illinois and have never been to Canterbury, so I apologize if I get any of the details wrong throughout this story. Oh, and sorry for the super-long A/N.


	4. Chapter 4

Spoilers: Compliant with Deathly Hallows but ignores the epilogue.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling and I'm not her. Everything else recognizable is owned by their respective companies.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long; my life got pretty crappy for a while, so I just wasn't in a writing mood. Thank you for all of the reviews that I've received so far! I try to respond to them, but if I don't, please know that I am reading them and your words are very encouraging for me to continue writing. This chapter was supposed to be the last half of chapter 3, but given how long the first half of the covered day wound up, I had to split it up. Oh, another reminder that I'm American; I'm trying my best with the Britisms, but I'm not British so I'll probably miss some. Please read and review! Thanks!

Two hours after lunch, Hermione and Malfoy climbed out of yet another taxi, this time at Malfoy's house. The blonde wizard was shaking from the ride and Hermione couldn't blame him. She was trembling slightly herself. Their driver hadn't been particularly careful, resulting in a couple of very near misses.

When Malfoy unlocked the front door (he must have found the keys that had been left behind by the Ministry), Hermione followed him inside. She took a seat on the center cushion of the sofa, dropping her purse on the coffee table, while he carried his parcels into the bedroom. She sighed, glad to have a few moments alone.

The afternoon had been quite odd. The tension and the anger that always seemed to hover right below the surface between the two of them had eased some after their shared embarrassment in the restaurant. Thanks to this, Hermione had been able to relax a bit more. She hadn't been hating her time spent with Malfoy and that was the oddest thing of all.

Hermione was actually looking forward to starting his Muggle lessons in a few minutes, but not for any typical reason. No, she was happy about it because she knew that Malfoy would get mad at her and start calling her names again. Then things would go back to normal between them, and she was anxious for that feeling of normalcy.

Glancing at the bedroom door and wishing he would hurry up, she checked her watch. It was already nearly three and she still had to teach him how to use his mobile and she wanted to teach him at least the basics of cooking. At this rate she wouldn't even get home until well after dinner, especially if it took him as long to understand the mobile as it had Ron.

At the thought of Ron, she felt another stab of guilt. She had been relaxed with Malfoy and she knew that Ron wouldn't be happy if he knew that. He didn't trust Malfoy, and, to be honest, neither did she, but Ron wouldn't like the thought that she had settled on an unspoken truce with the other wizard. She felt as if she had betrayed her boyfriend, even if her conversation with Malfoy had never drifted beyond the bounds of her plans for the day's lessons and his shopping. Most of their time that afternoon had been spent in silence, just like that morning, only without the tension.

"Cooking or mobile first?" Malfoy questioned, coming out of his room.

Hermione stood. "Mobile first, I think. Unless you're hungry?" She knew Ron would want at least a snack by now.

He shook his head. "I'll be good for a couple more hours." He flopped down on the sofa next to the cushion that she'd abandoned and eyed her. "Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to sit down?"

Hermione dithered for a couple of moments before finally settling primly on the edge of her previous seat. She leaned over, reached into her purse, and pulled out the phone that Harry had given her that morning. Pulling back, her spine straight, she took a deep calming breath as she held the mobile out to Malfoy. She immediately wished she hadn't because his warm, masculine scent washed over her. How had she not noticed how good he smelled?

Shaking her head briefly to clear this extremely odd thought, she settled into the comfortable role of professor. "That's a mobile phone. It's a Muggle device that is used to contact, or call, other people who own telephones."

He turned the mobile in his hands over, examining the exterior and then flipping it open, a tiny piece of paper fluttering out. He held the phone to his ear.

"I don't hear anything. I think it's broken," he announced, shutting it again.

Hermione shook her head and fought not to grin. "You have to actually dial the number of the person you want to talk to. Otherwise you won't hear anything."

He frowned. "Oh. How do I dial someone? How do I get other people's numbers?"

Surprised at his apparent interest in learning how to use his mobile, Hermione felt a slight disappointment that the lessons weren't going how she had intended. They were both supposed to be annoyed and calling each other names by now. Instead, Malfoy was actually paying attention to her explanations and Hermione was trying not to breathe through her nose because his scent disturbed her. She had to fix this. The truce was nice, but she couldn't handle what it was doing to her nerves now that they were no longer in public. Shoving aside her discomfort, Hermione reached out and took the mobile from him.

"I think even you are smart enough to figure out how to get others' numbers; you just ask. As to dialing, once you have a number, you can actually enter it in the built-in address book in the phone."

While she hit the correct button, Malfoy scooted closer to her on the couch and leaned over so that he could see what she was doing. Hermione moved to put some distance between them and he immediately followed. Scooting away again, and ignoring the way he followed her, Hermione continued with her lesson.

"All of the numbers that you enter into the phone and save for your future use show up on this list. Right now, three numbers are saved in your mobile. See?"

Her side hit the arm of the sofa and she couldn't move any further.

"No," Malfoy announced, annoyance in his tone. "I can't see because you won't stop moving. Now quit it."

He moved closer to her again (_much too close_, her mind screamed at her) and again leaned over to see the mobile in her hand.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled.

She felt ridiculous; he was just trying to see the phone and she was acting like he was trying to steal her virtue or something. Hermione moved the phone closer to him so that he could see this time.

"Could you show me how you got to the list again?" he asked, peering down at the mobile.

"Right." She hit the button to back out to the main display. "See, you just push this button right here," she demonstrated, "and your address book pops up. You can just select a name from the menu, hit the call button, and that'll dial the person."

She selected her own name from the list, pushed the proper button, and then listened as her ring tone came from her purse.

"To answer the phone, you simply have to flip it open when it rings and it will connect you automatically to the person calling."

She pulled her own phone out of her purse and opened it to stop the ringing before shutting it and dropping it back on the coffee table. While she was distracted, Malfoy snatched his mobile from her and pushed one of the buttons. Hermione leaned back and observed him in silence for a moment. When his brow furrowed in disgust at something on the display, she fought not to laugh. She guessed that he had just seen Harry's name in the list.

"Potter? Why in the name of Merlin is Potter's name in my mobile?" he questioned, his revulsion clear.

"I have a life outside of my job, Malfoy," Hermione reminded him. "I may not always be able to answer my mobile when you call. If you have an emergency and can't reach me, you can call Harry and he'll help you. He's in charge of your family's rehabilitation, so he can take care of anything that comes up if you can't reach me."

Malfoy sneered. "Duly noted. Call Saint Potter if you're too busy shagging the Weasel to answer your phone."

Hermione blushed. She really didn't want to talk about her sex life with Malfoy, but she couldn't just let his attitude about Ron stand.

"Ron and I live together, so, yes, there will be times when I can't answer the phone because I'm focused on him," she confirmed as calmly as she could, her cheeks a bright red. "I don't know that this will be a huge problem for you though, because I don't see you calling unless it's an absolute emergency."

He shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "I doubt I'll have to call Potter at all. If I call and you don't answer, I'll assume you're shagging Weasley. I'll just wait two minutes and call again. I can't imagine Weasley lasts much longer than that."

Hermione was completely mortified at Malfoy's words; he was talking about her love life with Ron as if it were an appropriate topic of conversation. She could also feel her anger at Malfoy rising again and she welcomed the feeling. It meant things were normal again between them.

"My relationship with Ron is completely off limits. I'm not here to discuss my love life with you, Malfoy. I'm here to teach you how to survive in the Muggle world, so I suggest we get back to that," she declared in a strained voice. Reaching over, she plucked the slip of paper that had fallen from his mobile off his thigh. As she suspected, it was his number, so she quickly put it into her phone and stood up. "You stay here. I'm going into the kitchen and you can try calling me."

Face still the color of a tomato, Hermione scurried into the kitchen, eager to be away from Malfoy's irritating self.

ooooo

Draco watched with great amusement as Granger practically fled from the room. That was why he loved torturing her; she made it only too easy for him. Once she had disappeared from sight, he looked back down at his mobile. He couldn't believe Potter's number was there (and he was _never_ going to use it), but he was happy to see that he had a number for his mother.

Granger's instructions were pretty simple, so he decided to give it a try. Selecting her name from the list, he hit the button she had indicated. He almost immediately heard the now familiar song ring out from the other room. Holding the mobile to his ear, he listened to a ringing sound until it ended and her voice floated to him over the line.

"Great, Malfoy. Now that I know you can make a call, let's try receiving one. Close your phone, and it'll disconnect automatically. Do it now."

Draco frowned at the phone; he didn't feel like taking orders from Granger. He knew that the sooner they moved onto cooking the sooner she'd leave though, so he flipped the phone shut. A few seconds later, the mobile let out an shrill tone. He flipped it open immediately to end the noise and put it to his ear.

"Granger, you better tell me how to change the noise the mobile makes," he answered.

"Why? Do you not like it?" her voice came back.

He grimaced; she sounded awfully amused. "No, I don't."

"That's good," she replied.

She had clearly been pleased with his answer, so Draco stood from his spot still on the sofa and made his way into the kitchen. She had her back to him and her shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. She clearly didn't hear him coming. Happy to have the advantage, he sneaked up on her and poked her as hard as he could between the shoulder blades. She let out a squeak and jumped, spinning around to face him.

"Malfoy!" she shouted.

He smirked at her. "Teach you to laugh at me. Now teach me how to change the tone of my mobile."

"Oh, no. I taught you how to both make and receive calls, and that's all I'm teaching you. If you want to change the ring tone, you can figure it out yourself," she declared with a straight face.

Draco could see that she was biting back a grin and figured out that she was teasing him. His world seemed to fall out of sync at the realization. Yeah, he could definitely get used to having a truce with her. Not that he'd stop torturing her; he loved the way she got embarrassed so easily too much to stop. Still, there was no denying that Granger wasn't as much of a bint when she relaxed a little.

"I'll remember this," Draco threatened.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Malfoy," she stated in a bored voice. "Are you ready to move onto the cooking lesson?"

Grimacing in distaste, Draco nodded. He still couldn't believe he actually had to cook for himself.

Five minutes later, Draco decided that Granger was having entirely too much fun bossing him around. She hadn't even asked him what he wanted for dinner. Instead, she had decided that she was going to teach him how to make a simple cheese and egg. She was perched on top of the counter (so she could keep an eye on what he was doing) with a glass of water, instructing him on how to complete the recipe, which she apparently had memorized. He had already gathered the ingredients and utensils she had told him to and was currently pouring a bit of oil in a pan on top of the thing that she called a stove.

"Now, add some butter to that," she directed.

He stared down at the stick of the yellow substance in confusion. _How much was some?_

"Just guess at it," Granger explained. "There's not really a precise amount of butter for this dish, but it shouldn't be too much."

Taking the butter knife that he had gotten from the drawer, he sliced one end off and added it to the pan. He watched the butter for a bit, expecting it to melt, but nothing was happening.

"There's something wrong with the stove. It's not melting," he proclaimed authoritatively.

Granger snickered. "Of course not. You haven't turned the heat on." She reached over and pointed to a knob below the surface of the range. "This knob controls the flame for the burner you're using. Turn it all the way until the flame lights and then turn it back down until you have a low flame. While you wait for the butter to melt, you can slice up the mushrooms."

Draco followed her directions. When the fire popped up under the pan, he managed not to jump. He hadn't expected it to happen so suddenly, but then again, he never would have thought that Muggles would have a way to make fire without wood. Using a slightly sharper knife, he began to slice the mushrooms, dropping them all into the skillet when the butter had melted.

"Good, now slice the cheese thinly and put it at the bottom of that pan." She pointed at the small baking pan she had pulled from one of the cabinets earlier. "Put it in the oven and let the cheese bubble. Then, beat the eggs. You can use salt and pepper in them if you want."

Draco glared at her. She was ordering him around but not doing a single thing to help him. She should be doing the work, not him. He definitely shouldn't be cooking while she just sat there giving him directions and looking way too amused by the whole thing. After he got the cheese in the oven and followed her instructions to turn it on, he took his frustration out on the two eggs that she had shown him how to break into a bowl without getting shell in them too. Once his eggs were thoroughly massacred, he reached down to pull the now bubbling cheese from the oven.

"Wait, Malfoy!" Granger called quickly. "You need oven gloves!"

Her warning came too late and Draco picked up the dish by the tips of his fingers, only to drop it on the counter with a curse as they burned.

ooooo

Hermione set her water down and jumped off the counter as soon as Malfoy cursed. _The stupid boy!_ He had to know the dish would be hot if the cheese was melted. Malfoy immediately stuck his fingers under the faucet, the cold water running over them. Hermione, however, knew that would only make the burning worse once he removed his fingers from the water, so she went to the fridge and grabbed the jar of pickle slices before joining him. After opening the jar, she reached over and turned off the water, pulling his hands to her.

"Don't just stand there you stupid bint - cast a cooling charm!" he cried out in a pained voice.

Hermione shook her head and ignored his foul language. She knew that it was just the pain talking (this time at least). Reaching into the jar, she plucked one of the pickles from the very top. As she started to place it on the tip of his index and middle fingers, Malfoy pulled his hands away.

"What are you doing? Use your wand!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, the pickle slice dangling limply from her fingers. "I'm not using my wand. How will you learn to take care of any future burns the Muggle way if I do?"

He eyed her warily. "You're going to help me with pickles?"

"Yes. My mom worked at a restaurant while she was at university. Burns were a frequent issue there and they quickly learned that pickles soothed them better than anything else. Now, are you going to let me help you?" she asked patiently - after all, she wasn't the one with the burnt fingers.

Beneath the discomfort on his face, she could see his skepticism, so she figured he needed a little more convincing.

"Come on, Malfoy. What do you have to lose by trying the pickles?" she prodded.

"They could make the pain worse," he stated, almost accusingly.

Hermione sighed; she should have known. "You'll just have to trust me when I tell you that they won't."

He snorted, and Hermione couldn't really blame him. They may have come to an unspoken understanding, but there was still no trust between them. She knew that if their roles were reversed she certainly wouldn't have trusted him - at least, not easily. So, she waited.

Finally, Malfoy held his hands back out to her. She cradled his right one against her stomach and silently pressed the pickles to his fingers and thumb. She couldn't help but wish that he would say something typically irritating because tending his burns felt entirely too intimate. After she had repeated the same process on his left hand, she stepped back awkwardly and screwed the lid back onto the pickles. When she looked up and noticed him watching her, she avoided his gaze by placing the pickles back in the refrigerator.

"This doesn't feel any different from the water, and now I'm going to smell like pickles," Malfoy complained breaking the quiet.

Hermione was so relieved to hear him acting bratty that she could have kissed him (although that would probably lead right back to the awkwardness).

"Yes, they feel the same right now," she admitted, reaching over and flipping the burner under the mushrooms off, "but when you take the pickles off in a minute, the burning will stay gone, unlike with the water."

He still clearly didn't believe her, but she wasn't worried. She knew she was right, having used the trick every time she burned herself while she was at home (not that Malfoy was likely to admit it). She removed the pan of mushrooms from the heat.

"I'm running to the loo. I expect you to be ready to resume the lesson when I get back," she announced.

"Dammit woman! I'm injured!" he called after her.

Hermione couldn't help but grin.

When she arrived back a couple of minutes later, Malfoy was washing the pickle juice from his hands. Hopping back up onto the counter, she resumed her (rather enjoyable) task of directing him around the room to finish his egg and cheese dish. Bossing Malfoy about was definitely another perk to her new job. Once he had placed the dish back into the oven for the eggs to cook, she clapped her hands lightly together.

"Okay. While we wait on that - you'll have to keep an eye on it, by the way, to make sure it doesn't burn - do you have any questions for me?" She thought they should use their wait wisely.

"Yeah. How can you stand shagging Weasley?" he asked, his face the picture of innocence even as his silver eyes sparkled with mirth.

Hermione felt herself flushing lightly. "I meant about the Muggle world or what's expected of you over the next year."

His expression grew contemplative. "You mentioned something earlier that I'm a little confused about. You said that Potter's in charge of my family. So why are you my liaison? Why not him, like with my mum?"

A little surprised that he'd actually been listening to her, Hermione thought back to her conversation with Harry the day before.

"He recently received a promotion to Head of Auror Training. The Ministry is completely overhauling the training program since the war demonstrated a severe lack in the department. Harry's in charge of creating the new program, so he's really busy with that. He doesn't have time to teach you about the Muggle world since, as you can see, it's a rather time-consuming endeavor."

Malfoy nodded thoughtfully. A thought struck Hermione and she bit her lower lip to keep from smiling.

"Why? Wishing it was Harry here with you instead of me?"

His jaw dropped in disbelief before he exclaimed, "Ew, no! Merlin!" He shuddered. "One Malfoy on speaking terms with Potty is quite enough, thanks."

Hermione snickered, leading into a snort, at his response. It was exactly what she had expected from him.

"Don't call him that," she admonished when she had regained her composure. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, "You should check your eggs and make sure they're coming along okay."

While he checked them, she started in on some of the facts that he needed to know. She decided to start with basic information such as the Royal Family and the current Prime Minister, plus the Muggle governmental system. While she talked, he asked questions where needed. It was a rather comfortable session, and a good use of time while they waited on his eggs. At this rate, she would be home in plenty of time for dinner. By the time Malfoy pulled his cheese and egg out of the oven (using the gloves this time), she had covered the majority of what she had wanted to for that day.

"What do you have to go with this?" he asked.

She frowned. She hadn't stocked the kitchen, of course, so she wasn't too sure what was available outside of the refrigerator, which she had been into a couple of times. Sliding back off the counter, she started to rummage through the cupboards.

"I usually have warm toast with butter and strawberry jam when I make a cheese and egg, but I'm not sure what you want, or what's available." She pulled the cabinet above the microwave open and let out a triumphant cry. "Aha! There's all sorts of instant food in here. It looks like whoever prepared the house provided several different choices of crisps. Oh, and there are biscuits too. Not really a dinner side dish," she muttered to herself, pushing them aside. "Could make an easy snack though. What do you think?"

She turned around to find Malfoy standing right behind her, his chest nearly touching hers and she let out a surprised gasp. He wasn't looking at her though; he was surveying the contents of the cupboard. Reaching over her head, he pulled out a bag of sour cream and onion flavored crisps and carried it to the table. Recovering from her shock, Hermione picked up her abandoned water glass and set it in the sink.

"Okay, I think that's enough for today. I'll teach you how to use the dishwasher tomorrow morning. Make sure you soak your dishes tonight; it'll make things easier," she announced.

Malfoy grunted in understanding, his mouth full of egg, cheese, tomato, and mushroom. Hermione raised an eyebrow. He hadn't spoken with his mouth full; perhaps Narcissa had taught him manners.

"I'm going to head home. I'll be over around the same time tomorrow morning as I was today," she explained. "We'll work on some of the basic chores to keep the house up and continue the cooking lessons. Goodnight."

Hermione turned on the spot and disappeared with a soft pop, missing his return goodnight.

ooooo

Harry apparated into the back garden of his cottage in Godric's Hollow. It had been a long day of meetings over his ideas for the new training program, and he was thrilled to be home. Sometimes, he wondered why he ever even left the house, and then he'd remember that he was trying to prevent his child having to live through a war like the one he'd been through and know that it was worth it.

As he started down the garden path toward the door, the delicious scent of beef casserole mixed with treacle tart wafted to him from the open windows. Luna had clearly decided to cook tonight and that was just what he needed after his difficult day.

"Hi, Harry," Luna said brightly, as he pushed the back door open and entered the kitchen.

"'lo, Luna," he responded wearily, taking a seat at the set kitchen table and watching her move with that unnatural grace that was distinctly hers.

At his tone, she turned around, a concerned frown on her face. "You had a bad day." It wasn't a question. "What happened?"

He sighed as she moved back to the salad she was creating. "Just running into resistance to my ideas from some of the more traditional wizards. You know how I want to implement a Muggle training program for all Aurors since we sometimes deal with them in our work?" He watched the back of her blonde head bob. "The older wizards don't think it's necessary. They believe it would be a waste of our trainees' time, adding onto the three years it already takes to qualify."

Pausing as she sliced a cucumber, Luna glanced back at him. "That makes no sense. Even when the Muggle Liaison Office gets involved, the Aurors are usually first on the scene and the ones that have to deal with the Muggles while they're most scared and confused. Right?"

Harry nodded. "Right. That's why I think it would be a good idea for them to have a basic understanding."

Dropping the last of the cucumber into the salad, Luna reached for a tomato. He could tell that she was mulling over his words from the slight narrowing of her eyes even as the rest of her face remained as dreamy as ever.

"It would also weed out anyone with less than noble intentions; anyone who's protection is conditional on blood status," she finally stated insightfully.

He hadn't even thought of that angle, but it did make sense.

"I hadn't thought of that, but it's a good point. Maybe I'll try that angle in my meetings tomorrow." He groaned at the thought of another day of stuffy old wizards. "At least I have Kingsley on my side."

Luna gave him a gentle smile as she set the salad on the table. "Something else is bothering you. What happened with Hermione and Draco today?"

Every time she zeroed in on his unspoken issues like that, it still amazed him that she knew him so well.

"They're having problems. I can't go into much detail because of confidentiality, but he's already broken the rules set for him. Hermione doesn't know how he managed it because we didn't pick up anything at the Ministry. She called me for help this morning. Hopefully, with the measures we've put in place, we'll catch him in the act if he does it again," he explained, as vaguely as he could.

Luckily, Luna was smart, so she was able to figure out what had happened without the details.

"That's exactly why the two of them are perfect for each other. He's already keeping her on her toes. Once they get past their history, it'll only be a matter of time before they realize it too. I bet, as frustrated as she seemed, she's probably actually having fun with a mystery to solve," she stated surely.

Harry frowned. He wanted to argue, but then he remembered his phone call with her earlier that day. It had felt like old times, listening to her piece together her ideas, and her voice had been so full of life, even if the annoyance had been there too. He could have sworn that she was cheerful when they hung up, and he had actually felt the same himself, hearing it in her voice. He was still sure that Ron made her happy, but he had to admit that his other best friend couldn't provide the same sort of challenge to her that Malfoy could. Disturbed to find himself even contemplating that Hermione and Malfoy could be good together, he switched the subject.

"How was your day?" he asked.

Luna set the casserole and then two glasses of milk on the table before taking her seat. "Ginny stopped by while I was finishing up a new article. There were two different disappearances that have been contributed to lethifolds. They took place within ten miles of each other in the States, which is highly unusual because lethifolds live in the tropics. The disappearances were entirely too far north to be within their natural range. I suspect that the victims were merely staging their vanishings, but if the lethifolds are migrating to new hunting grounds, it will be a huge story."

"You're probably right, and that close together, the two probably disappeared together - I'm sure there are precedents of other witches and wizards faking lethifold attacks to run off together," he mused. Of course, he wasn't very knowledgeable about magical creatures.

"There was the case of Janus Thickey. He faked an attack so he could desert his family to be with a tavern owner," she confirmed. "He only moved five miles away though, so he was found very quickly." She shook her head at the sheer stupidity of that move. "Like I was saying, Ginny visited as I was finishing the article, so we took tea together."

"What'd she have to say?"

Harry and Ginny hadn't worked out when they had tried dating again after the war. Their relationship had been great physically in the beginning, but eventually that had faded, leaving them with very little in common. The year of chasing Horcruxes had changed him, aged him, and he had left her behind. She simply hadn't been able to comprehend what he had been through. That wasn't her fault; it was simply that she had spent half the year ensconced at her great-aunt's home with most of her family while he was on the run from Snatchers and Death Eaters, captured by them, and encountered several other near death situations. Their breakup had been mutual and they had been able to remain friends afterward.

What had driven Ginny and him apart was actually part of why he and Luna understood each other so well. She had spent several months in the hands of the Death Eaters, working hard to keep her spirits up for Mr. Ollivander. She had once, very briefly, told him about what she had experienced over those months and it had been worse than what he would have imagined. He still marveled at the fact that she was as well-adjusted as she was. If he had been through what she had been...well, what had happened to Hermione during their brief capture paled in comparison. Needless to say, Luna understood the nightmares that he still had from time to time of that period of his life.

"She and Oliver are fighting again. He's angry that the Harpies won their last match against Puddlemere. She's angry that he's blaming his missed saves on her presence," Luna's voice broke his reverie. "All of us girls have tried to explain that her relationship with Oliver simply isn't going to work. Quidditch is his life and as long as they're on opposing teams, especially while hers is doing better, he's not going to be able to keep work and romance separate."

Harry wanted to roll his eyes. He was so tired of hearing about Ginny's relationship with Oliver Wood. He had thought Ron and Hermione fought all the time, but Ginny and Oliver were like Ron and Hermione in third year all over again. He couldn't understand why she kept trying with him. She was his friend, so Harry wanted her happy and that was clearly never going to happen with Wood.

"Have you told her about the Nigglewumpfs?" Harry did pay attention to Luna's creatures.

A sad expression on her face, she nodded. "Of course, but she always laughs when I mention them. Quite strange, really. It'd help if the Nigglewumpfs would tell me who her best romantic match is, but they're staying quiet on that for now. I think the bitterness of her relationship with Oliver is blocking their ability to find the right guy," she elaborated, her voice showing a rare frustration.

Harry really didn't want to get pulled into another plot to play matchmaker, so he quickly distracted Luna by asking about recent Crumple-Horned Snorkack sightings.

Merlin love her, she never could resist that topic.

ooooo

When Hermione got back to her flat, she was sure that she was in the wrong place. It looked like her flat, but the wonderful scent of grilled chicken floated toward her from the kitchen. It almost smelled like Ron had cooked dinner. Heart beating faster at the thought that he would make her dinner, she hurried into the other room.

Sure enough, Ron stood in front of the small indoor electric grill. Hermione moved up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his back.

"You made dinner?" she asked.

"I was hungry and couldn't wait for you to get home," he responded in a tight tone.

Hermione frowned and pulled away from him. Stepping to his side, she checked his profile. Why did he sound so upset?

"Did you have a bad day at work?" she questioned. Maybe he needed to vent.

"Not really. It was pretty normal. How was your day?"

Hermione immediately went on her guard when she heard the edginess in his tone. She knew that she would have to tread carefully because showing even the slightest sign of softening toward Malfoy would hurt her relationship with Ron.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but it wasn't exactly great either," she answered vaguely.

"Oh," he replied. "What did you do with him?"

She bit back her annoyance over the fact that she had told him just that morning that she was taking Malfoy shopping. _Didn't he ever listen to her?_

"I took him shopping for Muggle clothing and then taught him how to use his mobile. I also started his cooking lessons. He burnt himself," she added, hoping to lighten Ron's clearly sour mood.

It worked because the corner of Ron's mouth twitched. "He did?"

Relieved that he was perking up, she elaborated. "He did. He didn't use gloves to take the pan out of the oven and burnt his fingers."

"Prat," Ron muttered. "Any idiot knows not to grab a hot pan with bare hands."

Hermione tried to peek over Ron's shoulder to see what he was cooking, but he was too tall.

"So you're making chicken?" she asked.

"Yeah."

While Ron removed the meat from the grill, Hermione went to the fridge for a can of Sprite. She couldn't wait to try the very first meal that her boyfriend had ever made for her. The fact that he would cook dinner even when he was in a bad mood because of her job was extremely touching.

When she turned back around after popping the top on the can, she saw that Ron had already sat down at the table with his plate. She moved toward the grill, expecting to find her chicken still there (she didn't expect for him to make her plate; she was just happy he had taken a step in the right direction by cooking). Dismay and a tinge of disappointment ran through her when she realized that there was no chicken waiting for her on the grill.

"Oh, sorry. Did you want some of the chicken too, Hermione? I didn't even think to make you some," he apologized.

Fixing a bright smile to her face, Hermione shook her head. "No, it's okay. I think I have a can of ravioli in the cabinet."

While Hermione fixed her bowl of pasta, she tried to ignore the sounds of pleasure that Ron made as he ate. As long as he was in a good mood and their relationship was back to normal, she was happy.

ooooo

Hermione was awoken around midnight by the sound of her mobile ringing. Struggling out from under Ron's large arm, she tried to reach for her mobile.

"Shut it up," Ron mumbled, shoving her toward her nightstand as he rolled over.

Grumbling under her breath about Ron's rudeness, she put her hand out and stopped herself from hitting the nightstand. Yawning, she grabbed her mobile and saw Harry's name on the display. She became instantly alert.

"Harry, is it Malfoy?" she asked, already climbing out of bed and reaching for her jeans.

"Yeah. We have a report of elf magic at his house. If you get over there right now, you should be able to catch him in the act," Harry offered.

"Oh, good." She moved the phone just long enough to pull her jumper over her head. "I'm on my way. I'll file a report about what I find tomorrow morning."

"Meet me at my office at eight."

"Okay."

With that, they disconnected. Hermione grinned while she tied the laces of her boots. Oh, she had Malfoy right where she wanted him now.


	5. Chapter 5

Spoilers: Compliant with Deathly Hallows but ignores the epilogue.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling and I'm not her. Everything else recognizable is owned by their respective companies.

A/N: Again, I know that it's taken long for me to post this newest chapter. Those of you who read my most recent update to my journal know that I was working on my oringinal novel. I'm thrilled to say that I finished it and my very tiny test audience loved the story and can't wait for the next book in the series. However, I'm taking a break from my original stuff to work on my fanfiction. I owe it to everyone who has read my stories and put up patiently with delays and how cruel I tend to be to my characters. Oh, another reminder that I'm American; I'm trying my best with the Britisms, but I'm not British so I'll probably miss some. Please read and review! Thanks!

"I want it to look just like it did last night," Draco instructed, waving his hand dismissively at the entirely too red surroundings.

The little house-elf dipped into a bow, its large ears bobbing as it straightened back up.

"Right away, Master Malfoy. Flopsey will fix the house," it squeaked.

Yawning, Draco left the little elf in the kitchen to do his bidding and wandered into the bathroom to prepare for bed. While he showered, he thought, with some amusement, about the reactions he expected from Granger when she showed up the next day. Yeah, he knew that she'd set the place back to its default Gryffindor nightmare tomorrow, but her response would be worth it. Besides, it's not like he was the one who had to put in the effort to change the house around either tonight or when Granger ruined it again tomorrow.

Lulled by the steaming water, Draco's fantasies had just taken a decidedly dirty turn (the blondes he'd dreamed about last night had made a reappearance) when he was startled by a thump in the other room. His hands paused in his hair as shouts floated into the bathroom.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as the shampoo ran down into his eyes and stung like hell.

When another thud sounded from the other room followed by yet another shout, he ducked his head under the spray to get the majority of the suds off his head and hopped out of the shower. Internally cursing that he was wandless, he hurried into the bedroom and snatched his mobile from the nightstand. Even as he hurriedly searched for Granger's number in his phone (_what the hell was he supposed to push again?_), he ran into the other room to put a stop to the break-in. If something happened to Flopsey, he'd have hell to pay.

Upon entering the kitchen, he got a glimpse of brown hair and wide brown eyes before he was flying through the air and tackling the intruder. The person under him let out a whoosh of air but didn't struggle. As he registered that odd response, another sound filled the silence that had fallen in the room. A very familiar song that he identified with a certain brunette.

Granger. He had tackled Granger.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?"

As Granger's warm breath stirred over his neck, Draco became completely aware that he had her under him. He also now had the answer to his earlier idle curiosity. Yes, Granger definitely had curves under her jumper. He could feel the rather generous globes pressed to his chest and they were stirring up lower parts of his anatomy - parts that shouldn't be responding to the know-it-all Mudblood.

"Get off of me," Granger snapped.

The harsh tone of the command killed the bloodflow below his waist and he got to his feet leisurely.

"What are you doing here, Granger? Miss me?"

She snorted inelegantly and rolled her eyes at him. He nearly laughed at how she still managed to look scornful and composed even from the flat of her back. When the sight of her dark curls spread out around her began to stir his imagination, he had to look away. Instead he focused on her voice since that was sure to kill any fantasies before they could take root.

"Hardly," she scoffed, climbing to her feet.

At her movement, he glanced back over at her. She brushed her backside off and straightened her purple jumper with a frown, speaking as she did so.

"I recieved a report that elf magic was being used here, so I...oh, Merlin!"

Granger had finally focused on him and just as quickly turned her face away, cheeks a bright red.

"What's wrong with you, Granger?" he asked, amused at her coloring but also thorougly confused.

"Don't you ever wear clothing?" she choked out, her voice croaky.

Startled, Malfoy glanced down at himself to find that he was completely nude. _Oh, shit_. In his hurry to deal with the intruder, he'd skipped the whole getting dressed step.

"Clothing, now, Malfoy," Granger demanded, still sounding as if she'd swallowed a frog.

Normally Malfoy wouldn't get dressed simply because it was Granger telling him to. However, he'd already dealt with a very physical reaction to her and was damn lucky she hadn't noticed. The last bloody thing he needed was Granger to see that and misconstrue it as attraction to her. Because he sure as hell wasn't turned on by a Mudblood. So, heaving an annoyed sigh (couldn't make it easy on her), he left the kitchen for the bedroom and pulled on a pair of pajama pants.

When he exited the bedroom, he found Granger standing in front of the bookcase in the living room, surveying the titles.

"Did you know you have the whole collection of Grimm fairytales?" she asked excitedly, pulling a thick tome off the shelf.

He quirked an eyebrow at her back. Surely she hadn't shown up in the middle of the night to read his books?

"What are you doing breaking into my place at midnight, Granger?"

Sliding the book into place, she faced him. Her cheeks had faded to a light pink and her eyes were shining with excitement from finding the book. As her gaze focused on him though, that excitement morphed into fury.

"I didn't break in, and believe me when I say that I'd rather be home right now. But you just had to break the rules. Who does she belong to?" Granger questioned, gesturing to Flopsey, a disgusted look on her face. The house-elf was standing next to the couch looking uncomfortable.

Draco tightened his lips. No way was he going to give her any information.

Her eyes narrowed. "Fine. If you want to make things difficult."

He watched with annoyance as she bestowed a gentle expression on the elf unlike anything he'd ever been on the recieving end of.

"What's your name?" she asked in a soft tone.

"Flopsey, miss," the house-elf responded hesitantly.

"And can you take me to your master, Flopsey?"

The house-elf cast Draco a questioning look. She was under orders to follow his instructions, and he knew that she needed his permission to take Granger to her master's home. He wanted to deny her, but even he could tell that he was pushing Granger's last nerve from the heat in her eyes. He nodded to the elf.

"You may as well take her, Flopsey," he decided, with a bored shrug. "I won't get any sleep until she goes away."

Eyes still narrowed, Granger pulled her wand and took hold of the tiny creature's arm, and the two of them disappeared with a pop.

ooooo

Malfoy had been on top of her naked!

While he got dressed, she freaked out over the unwanted contact that she'd just had with him. Malfoy! Naked! She took a moment to relish the image that thinking about him pulled up and immediately felt guilty. Okay, so he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, but still! It was just wrong that he had touched her in that state. This was not a story that she was going to share with Ron. He'd probably Apparate right over here to curse the guy, and she had a feeling that Malfoy had forgotten that he was naked. If only she could forget so easily.

Hermione was glad when their interactions slid back into their normal antagonistic standards. By the time she took Flopsey's arm, she was sufficiently angry with Malfoy to remember why his looks were usually a source of annoyance. They caused his arrogance.

The house-elf Apparated them into a dark room. She could see a single person, probably a man, in the room, outlined by the fire he was facing. Her appearance with Flopsey was so sudden that she was able to disarm the stranger before he could defend himself.

"What the hell?" he shouted as his wand flew into the air and clattered to the ground several feet away.

"Don't move!" she called when he made to face her.

Holding her wand on him, she approached. Once he was in reach, she grabbed his arm tightly and Apparated back to Malfoy's.

Upon arriving, she dropped his arm and stepped back. The instant she was free of him, he turned around.

"What the hell are you doing here, Granger?"

Hermione groaned. She really should have known.

"Zabini," she acknowledged. "I could ask you the same question."

"I'm here because you dragged me here."

The combination of Blaise's response and Malfoy's laughter at it was enough to make Hermione grit her teeth.

"Sit down, Zabini," she directed, pointing at the couch.

Her tone must have been frightening because his eyes widened and he sat down. The room was quiet except for Malfoy's chuckling. Hermione barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Shut up and sit down, Malfoy," she snapped without taking her eyes off Blaise.

Once the two men were sitting on the couch facing her, Hermione began to pace in front of the coffee table. Where to even start?

"What am I going to do with you two? Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?" she questioned. "For starters, we've got violating the terms of Malfoy's sentencing. Then there's illegal magic usage..."

"What?" Malfoy burst out. "I haven't used magic."

"Crap," Blaise muttered.

Hermione nodded at Blaise. Despite his preference for Voldemort's policy, he hadn't joined up with the madman nor participated in the final battle, so he had never been removed from wizarding society. Instead, he had gone into training to become a criminal defense barrister. He would be well aware of the changes in the laws governing house-elf magic.

Malfoy looked over at Blaise in confusion. "What's she talking about?"

The dark wizard shook his head. "You wouldn't know, but the laws about house-elf magic have changed. Their masters are now held responsible for any magic they use while carrying out a command given to them."

"So you're in trouble then," Malfoy stated.

"You're both in trouble," Hermione corrected. When Malfoy opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off. "Blaise sent the elf here, so that makes him responsible for the illegal Apparation, but you were the one instructing her on how to use her magic once present." Hermione scowled. "It'd take me hours to even count how many infractions occurred under your direction."

The air was thick with silence as the implications of the accusations sank in. By the time Hermione spoke again, she could see on their faces that they understood just how much trouble they were in.

"So, the question remains. What should I do with the two of you?"

They seemed to be at a loss, so Hermione sighed.

"Okay. An easier question: how did you even know when to send Flopsey over, Zabini?"

She waited patiently as he dug around in his pocket. When he pulled out a handful of galleons, she groaned yet again. She should have known. She held out a hand and he dropped one of the shiny pieces of gold into it.

"Will this spell never cease haunting me?" she muttered under her breath as she stared at the galleon. Louder, she stated, "Give me yours, Malfoy."

"Why should I?" he asked belligerently.

"Because I'm ordering you to. That is a magical item, and you know that you aren't allowed to have magical artifacts for the next year."

Glaring at her, Malfoy handed over the galleon in his pocket.

Running a finger around the ribbed edge of the gold piece, Hermione considered her options. The most obvious one was reporting Malfoy and Blaise to the Aurors. They would both be arrested. Malfoy would be sent to Azkaban for a few months for breaking the rules of his punishment and Blaise would likely face a hefty fine or even a month or two in Azkaban himself. The option was tempting; Malfoy would be out of her hair and she'd be able to move on with her life. Harry could just assign someone else to him when he was released to complete his Muggle year afterward.

She sighed. If she took that option, she would disappoint Harry. He was counting on her to reform Malfoy, and sending him back to Azkaban wouldn't accomplish that. She considered her other options. When a particularly attractive one struck her on what to do with Blaise, she bit back a grin.

"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to give each of you a choice, and once you pick your one, you have to deal with the consequences. No going back if you decide you don't like the results."

"Okay," Blaise said easily as Malfoy continued to glare at her.

"Malfoy, I would be happy to send you back to Azkaban, but you would still have to complete your Muggle year once you were released. I wouldn't supervise you; I imagine Harry would take over just to ensure that your training was done correctly this time. On the other hand, I'm willing to give you a third chance, but know that if you screw up again, I will send you to Azkaban and let someone else deal with you," she addressed the blond sharply.

"That's like a choice between two evils," he protested.

Hermione shrugged. "Then it should be easy for you. You spent years surrounded by evil."

While Malfoy fumed, Hermione turned her attention to Blaise.

"Your choices are a little better. By all rights, you should stand trial for your crime, but I'm giving you an option that will allow you to avoid that. If you wish, you can take a few Muggle courses with a reliable instructor of my choice. A little healthy respect for Muggles and their lifestyle wouldn't be such a bad thing."

Blaise wrinkled his nose, confirming Hermione's belief that he wouldn't find the option appealing. She was also sure that he would take it because his future career as a barrister would depend on integrity, and having an arrest on his record would make that considerably more difficult.

"I'll take the Muggle courses," Blaise finally agreed, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. "A basic knowledge of Muggles might be a good thing; it might help me get someone off who's accused of a crime against them. Can I go now? I have an eight o'clock class."

"Go ahead. I'll be in contact with you to arrange the courses. And, Blaise, if you want to talk to Malfoy in the future, use legal channels to do so," she added.

Giving a final nod, Blaise Apparated away with a pop. Hermione really hoped he wouldn't punish Flopsey for the night's events. Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned her attention back to Malfoy.

"Oh, stop sulking, Malfoy. I've given you the perfect way to get rid of me."

"I bet you'd like that," he grumbled. "Just pushing me off on someone else to deal with."

Hermione smiled innocently. "I'd have peace and quiet in my life again - no dealing with a bratty wizard who has no interest in actually learning what I have to teach. No more listening to your constant complaining."

Malfoy was glaring at her, his cheeks slightly pink. Hermione could tell that her words bothered him.

"I don't want to go back to Azkaban," he finally mumbled reluctantly before smirking. "I'd much rather make your life miserable."

Hermione bit her lip in amusement. She had known that would be his choice; he was so predictable.

"Good boy," she praised him perkily, glad that he didn't have a wand on him when he scowled at her. "I'm going home now; I'll put the house back to rights later this morning. Remember, be up and ready by ten. I'm teaching you how to clean."

As she Apparated away, Hermione was strangely glad that Malfoy had chosen to continue with his lessons.

She may not like him, but at least he was never boring.

ooooo

Hermione dropped by Harry's office at eight the next morning to summarize the events of the previous night (or was it early that morning?). He had been suitably impressed with her for taking advantage of Blaise's situation to coerce him into Muggle courses. She made the meeting quick because she was meeting the girls for their normal Wednesday morning breakfast.

"Sorry, I'm late!" she panted as she dropped into her usual seat at their normal table in Magic Scones, a tiny diner in Diagon Alley.

"It's okay, Hermione. The Mylicids are very active right now," Luna reassured her.

Hermione frowned. That was a new creature.

Ginny gave Luna a confused look, but said, "We ordered you some orange juice."

"What exactly is a Mylicid?" Pansy Parkinson questioned curiously.

Hermione sighed. Pansy always just had to ask about the creatures.

If someone had told Hermione two years ago that Pansy Parkinson would be among her best friends, she would have been quite sure they'd spent too much time on the wrong end of the Cruciatus. The girl had been a pain to her on par with Malfoy himself while they were at school. There's no way she ever could have forseen a set of circumstances where she'd actually like the other woman.

Of course, it was amazing what losing one's fortune, reputation, and, consequently, friends could do for a person's attitude.

Pansy's parents had supported Voldemort fully. In fact, their support was so strong that they had invested their entire family fortune in the prison (or, more accurately, torture and death) camps that he had been setting up throughout the world during the Second War for use when he won. The wizarding world had been appalled when Severus Snape's journal had revealed that information. Muggleborns were horrified because they knew about World War II and that Voldemort's plan with the camps was modeled after the death camps from that period.

Needless to say, although there was no law against it, the families who were recorded as investors in the camps (Snape kept impeccable records) lost any respect that they might have maintained after the Second War by not joining the Death Eaters. Additionally, they lost any money they had invested. For some, like the Parkinsons, this meant complete destitution. In fact, Pansy's family had fled to Brazil to escape the media's persecution and society's judgment. Surprisingly, the Malfoys had not been listed in Snape's records - Hermione contributed that to Lucius's tendency to hedge his bets in case the opposing side won. In this case, that had been an intelligent move.

A year ago, Hermione had popped into the newly opened Magic Scones for a scone (what else?) and a cup of coffee. She had been shocked to find Pansy waiting tables in the small cafe.

_As Hermione waited impatiently at the counter for her strawberry scone (and Ginny better be right about them being the best ever given how long she'd already waited), she scanned the room. The cafe was pretty popular given the crowd packed into the tiny room. She was happy to find that the cafe was decorated in a homey manner yet without all of the lace and frills that Madame Pudifoot employed in her decoration. The room was actually very much her taste._

As she watched the crowd, a familiar figure caught her eye at a nearby table. She was surprised when she recognized Pansy Parkinson. She thought the Parkinsons had left the country in the fallout of the prison camp scandal.

Hermione took advantage of the crowd to study the other woman. She looked utterly defeated. She smiled at the customer that she was serving, but it didn't reach her eyes. When Pansy started back toward the front, Hermione was horrified to see one of the customers stick her leg out and purposely trip Pansy, knocking her tray to the floor. Hermione got angry when the woman then called her a Death Eater whore. Whatever Pansy had done to Hermione in the past, that was going too far. Honestly, it was no different from calling a Muggleborn a Mudblood.

Moving forward, Hermione picked up Pansy's tray while the other woman regained her footing and straightened up, brushing strands of black hair out of her eyes. When Hermione handed it over, Pansy's expression was completely blank. Only her eyes betrayed her pain over the customer's treatment.

"Thanks," she muttered before walking away.

Hermione followed her through the front door to the tables outside. Pansy stopped near one of the empty tables. Only one person was sitting outside in the chilly late September air.

"What do you want, Granger?" she asked, her voice a monotone.

"It's just...what are you doing back in Britain?"

Apparently that was the wrong question because Pansy immediately stiffened.

"Why? Is it a crime for me to be here now? My family wasn't expelled from the country, you know. I'm allowed to return if I want," she stated defensively, arms crossed protectively over her chest.

Hermione was shocked. It was perhaps the first time that she had seen something other than fear or malicious joy in another's pain from Pansy.

"Of course it's okay for you to return; I just don't understand why you would put yourself through people treating you like that."

Even as Hermione gestured at the door to the cafe, she questioned her own motives. She and Pansy had nothing positive in their history together, so there was absolutely no reason why she should care what Pansy was going through. Scowling, she decided to blame Harry. Clearly his saving people thing had rubbed off on her because heaven knew that she didn't have any of those tendencies on her own (her subconscious supplied Ron mumbling 'house-elves' even as she blamed Harry).

Pansy's eyes softened slightly as she realized that Hermione wasn't trying to be mean.

"I was homesick," she admitted quietly.

From that point on, Hermione made an effort to get to know Pansy better. She had fully expected that the other woman would rebuke her attempts to be friendly, but had quickly learned that Pansy led a very lonely life. The public was holding her responsible for what her parents had done, to the point that her boss at the diner wouldn't let her use her wand like the rest of the staff, which was why she had to use a very Muggle tray. Additionally, all of her friends from school had ditched her because they either didn't want to have their names contaminated by association or because Pansy was now a working-class witch. The circumstances meant that Pansy was open to friendships she wouldn't have been previously.

Several months later, once Hermione knew her well enough to count her as a friend, she had brought Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Luna around the cafe to meet her. Luckily, they tended to trust Hermione's judgment, so they were willing to keep an open mind. Luna had spent approximately five minutes with Pansy and declared that she was a good person in that weird way she had. When it came out that Pansy was a Quidditch fan in general and a Harpies fan specifically, she had quickly won over Ginny. Ron hadn't taken much either; Hermione was very sure that Pansy's looks, quite pretty even with her pug-like nose, had been enough to earn his forgiveness. Harry was the final holdout, but even he had softened when Pansy expressed an interest in taking Muggle lessons. He and Luna, who had taken Muggle Studies in school and learned a lot from Harry, had worked with her during their free time, and the Slytherin was now firmly entrenched in their group.

"...moving the buildings into your path, so you're late," Luna was finishing as Hermione snapped out of her thoughts.

Apparently while she was drifting through her memories, Luna had explained about her creatures (_what were they again? Mylids?_). Given the extreme disbelief on both Ginny and Pansy's faces, it must have been an unusual explanation, even for Luna.

"Oookay," Ginny muttered before turning to Hermione. "How's Malfoy-sitting going?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, let's see. He tried to smuggle a wand in his trunk. He's already shattered the restriction on magic use _twice_. He wasn't up and ready to go when I told him to be. He's rude, obnoxious, spoiled, and generally behaving like a complete brat." As she spoke, she ticked off the points on her fingers. "So, overall, it's going exactly how I expected it to."

Ginny nodded sympathetically. "I'm definitely not jealous of you. Malfoy's awful normally, so I can't imagine what he's like while he can't use magic."

"Wait," Pansy broke in. "If he doesn't have a wand, then how has he broken the magic restrictions? Malfoy's smart..." Ginny snorted, but Pansy ignored her. "...but wordless magic was never really his strength."

"Oh, he's had a little help with that," Hermione hedged. "Speaking of which..."

When Hermione turned her gaze on Ginny, the other girl's brown eyes widened and she began to vigorously shake her head.

"Oh, no. I am not helping you with anything to do with Malfoy," she protested.

"Don't worry," Hermione reassured her sweetly. "It has nothing to do with Malfoy."

Her tone clearly did nothing to allay Ginny's fears.

"Then what do you need?" she asked warily.

"I need someone who has the time and knowledge to give Muggle lessons to Blaise Zabini."

"Blaise?" Pansy questioned.

"Oh!" Luna exclaimed.

That was an odd response, so Hermione turned her attention to the blonde, only to find that she was humming under her breath and folding her napkin into a swan. Shrugging, Hermione focused on Ginny again. She looked appalled at the thought.

"I really don't want to."

"Please, Ginny. I need someone who I know will make sure he takes the lessons seriously," Hermione pleaded.

Pansy was watching the two of them with great interest; Luna was off in her own world.

"No," Ginny disagreed. "I'm sure you can find someone else. What about Ron?"

Hermione bit back a snort at the thought of her boyfriend teaching anyone anything about Muggles. She didn't want to badmouth her boyfriend in front of his sister. Luckily, Pansy had no such issue.

"Really? Have you ever seen him do anything the Muggle way if he could use magic?"

"He has the knowledge, though. I'm sure he could handle teaching someone else."

Pansy let out a dissenting noise and Hermione mumbled her disagreement quietly.

"I agree with Pansy," Luna piped up. "Ron always sends owls to Harry when Hermione's in the Muggle world."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ginny inquired in bewilderment.

Hermione clarified, "He has Harry call me to pass along his messages instead of just calling me himself."

Ginny scowled. "That's not right."

"See why I need you to do this for me."

Ginny shook her head. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I'm not going to spend my free time dealing with a snotty Slytherin."

"Hey!" Pansy protested.

"Oh, not you," the readhead stated with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Any Slytherin but you."

Pansy looked slightly happier with that and fell into conversation with Luna about Lethifolds. Tilting her head, Hermione considered the Quidditch player across from her. She just needed the right tactic to make Ginny do what she wanted. When it hit her, she smiled.

"Ginny, I really don't want to do this, but remember how I portkeyed home from my vacation in the Bahamas the last time you broke up with Oliver? And you were so torn up that I stayed with you while Ron finished out our vacation alone? You said that you would pay me back for that. So, I'm calling in my favor," she asserted triumphantly.

Ginny gave an angry huff.

"Fine. But you don't play fair," she charged, pointing at Hermione accusingly.

Hermione grinned happily as the waitress appeared with their drinks. She did like winning.

ooooo

When Draco woke up, he realized that he was hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since the cheese and egg the previous night. He had intended to try a couple of the biscuits Granger had pointed out in celebration of his victory over her once Flopsey had completed the house. Granger had ruined that plan, and by the time she had left, he was tired enough to go to sleep.

Stomach growling, Draco climbed out of bed and pulled a pair of silk pajama pants over his boxers. If Granger showed up early, he didn't want to get caught undressed again.

Slamming one of his pans onto the stove and turning the heat up high, he mentally tore into Granger. She had to ruin all of his fun. Why couldn't he have gotten some clueless Auror? One of them probably wouldn't have found all of his magical items let alone figured out how he was making changes to the house. But no, he had to get stuck with the know-it-all.

As he broke the eggs in the pan, his temper began to build. She treated him like her slave, bossing him around and telling him what he could and couldn't do. He cracked the egg he was holding so hard that some of the shell landed in the pan. Cursing, he reached in to pull out the shell, only to curse again when he burned his hand.

He placed his hand under the cold water, washing the yolk down the sink. He'd be damned if he took Granger's stupid advice with the pickles while she wasn't here to force him. When he pulled it out of the water, he noticed that the burning hadn't diminished in the least. Cursing Granger, eggs, and pickles, he stormed to the fridge for the smelly slices.

He wasn't completely sure why he was so angry at Granger. Part of it was definitely the fact that she had cut off his last contact to the magical world when she took his galleon, and she was going to undo what Flopsey had managed to finish before she barged in. Of course, part of it was also simply because she was Granger.

Once the burning had stopped, he dropped the pickles in the trash in disgust and washed the juice off his hands, his thoughts still on his annoying guide. He was man enough to admit that a small part of his problem with her was the way that his looks didn't affect her at all. He had been on top of her while completely naked last night, and she hadn't cared. She hadn't even looked. Hell, he'd even been turned on by having her under him. Her impassive reaction to his obviously superior body just confirmed his opinion of her oddness. If she was a normal girl, she would have begged him to shag her the instant she saw his body.

He took a moment to consider that. Normally, the thought of shagging a Mudblood would disgust him, but he liked the idea of Granger begging for something only he could give her. He'd bet all the Malfoy gold in Gringotts that she'd never had mind-blowing sex if her only experience was with the Weasel (and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that it was - she was too much of a prude to have slept with anyone else). Showing up Weasley and having Granger at his mercy - that was a tempting thought.

Sneering, Malfoy moved into the bedroom to get ready for the day. Granger was proud, though, so it would be a challenge to make her beg for anything. Malfoy paused, hand in his bedroom cupboard, and considered it. That actually sounded like a perfect way to kill time while he waited to return to more suitable company. Shagging Granger had to be worth bragging rights even if he never told anyone else (she was still a Mudblood, after all). And knowing that he'd taken her from Weasley just for the hell of it...

Malfoy smirked. By the time he was done, Granger would beg him to have sex with her.

And at the end of the year, he'd leave her alone and craving him.

ooooo

Malfoy was so busy with his devious planning that he didn't realize he'd forgotten the eggs on the stove.

He also missed the smoke flooding the house from the kitchen.

A/N 2: Yes, Pansy will be appearing in this story. I, of course, took creative liberties with the whole death camp aspect, but I thought it something that Voldemort would logically have done and non-Death Eater supporters would have contributed to. We don't know much about Pansy in the books outside of her distaste for Muggleborns, that she was clearly terrified of getting caught in the final battle with Voldemort, and that she tended to follow Draco around like a puppy. So I gave her what I hope is some logical character development and ran with it. Plus, Hermione doesn't strike me as the type to kick someone when they're down, not even Pansy. I hope my reasoning seems logical enough to everyone. Again, thanks for reading the chapter and please feel free to review. I'd love to know what everyone thinks. 


	6. Chapter 6

Spoilers: Compliant with Deathly Hallows but ignores the epilogue.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling and I'm not her. Everything else recognizable is owned by their respective companies.

A/N: I know, I know, I'm a bad fanfiction writer because of the long waits between chapters. I simply can't write when I'm not inspired and I have definitely not been inspired lately, not with my Gleefic (mostly because I feel like the show has gone downhill and destroyed Rachel's character) or this fic. However, I just watched Deathly Hallows Part 2, and I'm feeling inspired to continue this Dramione because I am once again reminded of how very wrong I find the Ron/Hermione dynamic. Once again, I'm American; I'm trying my best with the Britisms, but I'm not British so I'll probably miss some. Please read and review! Thanks!

When Hermione arrived in Malfoy's kitchen, she was shocked to find that it was filled with smoke. Squinting to see through the billowing clouds, she headed toward the stove immediately. Coughing, she ducked down to get a better look at the appliance's surface. When she saw a pan sitting on one of the burners filled with a charred mass of what she thought was eggs, she immediately flipped off the burner under it. From the distance the knob had to move, she knew that the flame had been set too high.

After stowing her wand in her jeans pocket, she was preparing to move to the kitchen window to let in some fresh air when she heard running footsteps and then a loud curse. Malfoy, clearly focused on the smoke and previously burning pan, didn't notice Hermione. When he slid to a stop, he hit her hard where she still stood in front of the stove. The force sent her sprawling across the floor into the nearby cabinets.

As she climbed to her feet, rubbing what would surely be a bruised shoulder, Hermione watched Malfoy check the burner. Once he was satisfied that the heat was off, he turned to her.

"You alright?"

Surprised that he would even ask, she nodded and scooped up her wand. When she straightened back up, she said the first thing that came to mind.

"I see you're actually dressed this time."

As soon as the words were out, she wished she could take them back. The last thing she needed was for him to believe that she had been thinking about his body (because she definitely hadn't, and she certainly hadn't dreamed about running her fingers along his well-defined abs after she'd gotten home). She knew hope was lost when he smirked at her.

"You sound disappointed," he observed, his silver eyes shining with amusement.

Hermione huffed and fought back a blush. "Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy."

In the awkward silence that fell, Hermione surveyed the room. The smoke didn't appear to have dissipated in the least; they definitely needed to do something about that.

"Let's open up the windows and let in some air," she instructed the still-smirking man, "and then we'll head outside until the house clears out a bit."

The house was so small that it only took a couple of minutes to open all of the windows. When a chilled breeze had filled the rooms, Hermione met Malfoy in the front garden. Hands clasped behind her back, she wrinkled her nose at the sight of the smoke escaping the windows.

"I probably should have mentioned that you should always keep an eye on food you're cooking on the stove," she finally broke the silence. "Also, low heat is best for eggs."

Malfoy didn't respond immediately, so she glanced to where he stood at her side. Eyes focused on the house, he ran a hand over his hair in a manner so reminiscent of Harry that she couldn't help smiling.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's alright," she reassured him.

He met her eyes, a slight smile on his face.

"Sorry about knocking you down, too."

Hermione grimaced at him, uncomfortable with the unusual kindness.

"You know, I really didn't expect this job to be so hazardous," she muttered before adding under her breath, "although I probably should have."

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get the words out, a voice sounded to their immediate right.

"Oh my goodness! Are you two alright?"

ooooo

So far, Draco's decision to make Granger crave him wasn't going to plan at all. Shoving her down definitely wasn't the best first step to winning her over; in fact, it was something that Weasley would have done. The very thought disgusted him.

Draco frowned into his cup of tea and attempted to focus on the best way to get his plan back on track, but the voices in the room weren't easy to ignore. When his Muggle neighbor had come over to check on them after she had seen the smoke, Granger had of course invited the woman inside in spite of his obvious displeasure at the notion. Olivia Cooper was more talkative than a lecturing Granger and louder than Weasley on an average day. By far the worst part was that she was a Muggle and she was currently sitting at his kitchen table, contaminating the location where he ate every day.

"I'm so glad that someone my age is finally in the neighborhood," the woman stated. "Everyone else nearby is over the age of fifty. With all of the overtime that Darryl has to put in, it's just been myself and Abby."

Olivia laughed and Draco glared at Granger for her part in this dullness. She gave him a small apologetic smile, but he knew better than to believe it. The humor in her brown eyes belied the expression.

"Who's Abby?" Granger asked curiously.

Draco tried to stare back down into his tea and tune them out again, but the feel of Granger's hand on his thigh startled him. That was new; was she playing into his hands already?

_No, no, she wasn't_, he decided as she dug her nails painfully into the muscle. He held back a flinch and turned his head to scowl at her. However, the effect was lost because her attention was completely focused on the Muggle. Draco didn't need her to speak though; he knew that she was warning him to pay attention to his new neighbor. With a sigh, he turned his gaze on the Muggle woman. Once he did, Granger let go of his thigh, and he tried not to notice how cold he suddenly felt.

Oblivious to the tension between her two companions, Olivia aimed a bright smile at the two of them.

"She's my baby girl, just three months old."

When Granger opened her mouth to speak, Olivia cut her off.

"Oh, don't worry. Darryl's off today, so he's having a bit of a lie-in with Abby," Olivia stated and then sighed. "He works so often that he doesn't get to see her as much as he'd like."

Draco frowned. This Darryl sounded like he worked as much as his own father had while he was growing up. What could a Muggle do that was as important and time-consuming as Lucius's work with the Malfoy holdings?

"What does he do?" Draco asked, contributing to the conversation for the first time.

"He works in law enforcement," Granger answered, shooting a sharp look at him.

"Right," Draco mumbled.

Since participating in the conversation hadn't gone well, he instead decided to observe the Muggle. She was tall and dark-skinned with black hair and dark brown eyes. He bit back a scowl as he realized that she was fairly pretty for a Muggle; hell, she'd be pretty for a witch. She was also surprisingly open and kind in spite of the fact that they were strangers. There was nothing about her that screamed Muggle. In fact, her personality kind of reminded him of Daphne Greengrass, a fellow Slytherin from his year at Hogwarts. Never a staunch supporter of You-Know-Who, Daphne had been far too nice for a Slytherin and often wound up excluded because of it. His conscience gave a slight squirm and he pushed back the guilty thought that her difficulties were mostly his fault. He couldn't think about that now; it wasn't like he could change it.

"So how long have the two of you been married?" Olivia asked.

He would have laughed at the way Granger choked on her tea if it weren't for the fact that he would have done the exact same thing if he'd just taken a drink.

"Married?" Granger gasped out after she had finished coughing.

Draco felt the odd sensation of being on the exact same wavelength as Granger. For probably the first time ever, he knew that they were thinking the same thing.

There was no way in hell they would ever be married.

"You're not married?" Olivia questioned, face falling.

"No!" Granger stated, so emphatically that Draco felt like he should be offended.

"I'm sorry. I just thought...I saw you two together yesterday and you never left last night, Hermione," Olivia stumbled over her reasoning.

Although wondering why Olivia had been watching his house, Draco smirked at Granger. The Muggle couldn't know that she had Apparated home, so she clearly believed that Granger had spent the night. That was certainly interesting. Although the thought was absurd given the animosity still between them, he was pretty sure that he could work this to his advantage for his plan to seduce her. When the idea hit him, he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.

"You probably missed it; it was well after midnight by the time she left. Hermione," he paused because it felt really strange to use her first name, "has her own place, but she only sleeps there. She'll be here most of the time. Right, gorgeous?"

When Draco looked at Granger, he could tell from her expression that she was trying to cast a Cruciatus with neither wand nor words. He just gave her an innocent smile and watched as she tried to figure out a way out of the lie he'd set up. When she didn't find one, she sighed.

"Right," she agreed, sending yet another scorching glare in his direction.

ooooo

The instant she shut the front door behind Olivia, Hermione turned on Malfoy.

"What in the hell was that?" she shouted.

She couldn't believe that Malfoy had let Olivia think that they were romantically involved. There were just so many things wrong with that. First off, he was Malfoy. Secondly, she had a boyfriend. Third, she wasn't even interested in Malfoy that way and never had been (no matter how nice his body was). Oh, and had she mentioned that he was _Malfoy?_

Malfoy sneered.

"I thought you were the brightest witch in our year, Granger. She's already seen you here and since I still have lessons to get through, she's bound to see you over here in the future. If she thinks that we're seeing each other, then you can still Apparate in and out. She'll just think that you left after she went to bed."

The reasoning was so logical that Hermione couldn't argue against it. She had to admit that even if they had just presented a facade of friendship to Olivia, the fact that she was at Malfoy's house all the time and late into the night would seem suspicious. At least if Olivia thought they were dating, Hermione's reputation was protected.

"Fine. I suppose that makes sense," she finally said, and then changed the subject. "On to today's lesson. We're going to clean the house."

"No," Malfoy denied firmly. "I've already told you - Malfoys don't clean."

"Malfoys don't do manual labor, Malfoys don't cook, Mafoys don't clean," she ticked the statements off on her fingers. "Tell me; what exactly do Malfoys do? Other than behave like spoiled brats, I mean."

When he smirked at her, an indiscernible heat in his eyes, Hermione felt very uncomfortable. She was quite sure she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"This Malfoy could do things to you you'd never imagined," he said in a husky voice.

While Malfoy's tone sent tingles down her spine, his words were utterly ludicrous. She couldn't help the laughter that burst from her.

"Oh, Malfoy," she uttered, shaking her head in amusement. "Let's go. We have a lot to do today."

ooooo

Two hours later, Hermione was sitting on Malfoy's couch while he dusted the living room. She was trying to go over the Muggle laws that he needed to follow, but she had a feeling he hadn't heard anything that she'd said. This was mostly because he had kept up a steady stream of curses and threats since he had scrubbed the pan that he'd left on the stove. That had been well over an hour ago (a majority of which was spent disinfecting the table of 'Muggle germs'). Resigned to the fact that he hadn't heard a word she'd said, Hermione returned to the beginning of her lecture.

"Really, the laws in the Muggle world aren't very different from those in the..."

"Bloody buggering hell!" he yelled, waving his hand and then stomping on something on the floor.

Having never seen him lose his composure so fully, Hermione began to snicker. It wasn't nice of her, sure, but it was a sight that she never thought she'd see.

Her laughter drew Malfoy's ire.

"You're a Mudblood, and I'm a Pureblood. You're supposed to serve me, not laugh while I do your job. Don't make me shut you up," he threatened in a low, deadly voice.

Hermione stood up and gave him a stern look.

"I'm going to ignore that since I know you're unhappy that you have to clean," she said calmly. "Get back to work."

She held her expression steady until she was safely in the kitchen. Once she was sure Malfoy couldn't see her, however, she leaned on the counter and took a deep breath. Malfoy hadn't really scared her or hurt her feelings. She was sure that the only problem was that yesterday had been so easy, but today...

Taking another deep breath to regain her composure, she straightened and moved toward the refrigerator. She was just reaching for the handle when her mobile rang. Not bothering with the display because anyone who had her number would be a welcome distraction right now, she flipped it open.

"Hello."

"The next time I see you, the only thing you will see is a flash of green light because then you'll be dead."

Hermione's mouth quirked. "Hi, Ginny."

"I'm serious, Hermione," the other girl stated. "The next time I see you, I am going to kill you."

"I take it things aren't going well with Blaise?" Hermione questioned, even though she already knew the answer. Before leaving the cafe that morning, she had given Ginny Blaise's contact information and convinced her to begin his lessons immediately.

"Let's just say that before I kill you, I'm going to kill him. I'll go out in a blaze of glory for ridding the world of two annoying know-it-alls," Ginny said fiercely. "He is a stubborn, obnoxious..." she paused to search for the right word before spitting out, "man! Every time I try to teach him something new, he tries to tell me why I'm wrong! I could tell him the grass is green and he'd tell me it's red just to be contrary!"

"Has he attempted to burn down the house yet?" she questioned the other girl.

"No."

"Then, you still don't have it as bad as I do," Hermione reassured her friend.

There was a moment of silence and then Ginny asked, "Malfoy tried to burn the house down?"

"To be completely fair, he didn't do it on purpose. He just left some eggs on the stove for too long. He's cleaning the house now."

"Wow. Malfoy cleaning. I bet that's gone over well."

Hermione snorted. "I never realized all the creative ways one can use the word Merlin. Not even Ron knows all of the uses, apparently."

Ginny let out a laugh at that and then groaned.

"Zabini's back, so I have to continue the lessons. I'll see you later, Hermione."

"Later, Ginny," Hermione returned.

She caught Ginny's last words as she hung up.

"Remember, you're dead."

In much better spirits after talking to her friend, Hermione pulled open the refrigerator.

ooooo

Draco scowled as he dusted the bookshelf. He had run off Granger. He was a little disappointed. He never would have expected her to give up simply because he'd been mean to her; she never had before. If she requested a transfer off of his case, then his plan was finished. He'd never get her into bed if he couldn't see her.

Moving to the cabinet with the weird black box in it, he acknowledged another issue with that thought. He had actually grown somewhat accustomed to having Granger around. Yes, she was a Mudblood, and yes, she was one of his childhood enemies. She was also smart and, amazingly, decent company when they weren't fighting. And, Mudblood or not, she was easy on the eyes. If she quit, who knew what he'd end up with?

Reluctantly, Draco realized that he might have to apologize to her if he wanted to keep her around. Malfoys didn't do apologies. The closest they ever came was the simple sorry that he'd muttered that morning for the burnt eggs and hurting her. Those weren't serious issues, though, so it wasn't like apologizing for hurting her feelings. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to get through that.

After several more minutes in which he finished up the living room and moved into the bedroom, he heard Granger call his name. Steadying himself to do what he had to in order to keep his plan on track, Draco followed the sound of her voice. He came to a surprised stop when he entered the kitchen.

"I was thinking," Granger stated, her back to him as she pulled two glasses out of the cupboard. "It's really no wonder that you're cranky; you never ate breakfast, after all." She filled the glasses with water as she continued, "If there's anything I've learned from being friends with Ron and Harry all these years, it's that men become irrationally angry when they're hungry."

Once the glasses were full, Granger sat them on the table near two plates of grilled cheese sandwiches and crisps and two bowls of tomato soup. Then, she sat down in front of one of the plates and looked up at him.

"Come on then, Malfoy. You don't expect me to eat all of this, do you?" she asked with a small smile.

Dropping his dust cloth on a nearby segment of counter, he slid into the seat across from hers. They spent the next few minutes in silence as they ate. He was impressed with how good the sandwiches were, and the soup was a perfect complement to them. Once his lunch was gone, he leaned back in his chair and studied Granger, who was swirling her spoon through her soup.

"You cooked for me."

It wasn't said as a question, but it definitely was one. After how he'd treated her, he had expected her to quit, not make him a meal.

"Like I said, I know that men get cranky when they're hungry," she responded.

"Weasley's a bottomless pit."

Again, it wasn't a question, and yet it also was. Luckily, Granger took it as such and met his eyes.

"We keep a lot of snacks in the flat, and I try to make it home by six. He expects supper at seven and when it's late, he can get a bit...sharp," she admitted.

Not for the first time, Draco wondered why she was with the prat. Surely she knew that she could do better, Mudblood or not. However, he knew that asking that question would ruin the tentative peace that had settled between them. He watched Granger gather up the dishes as if she had forgotten that he was supposed to do all of the cleaning, and it struck him what he needed to do to win her away from Weasley.

He'd have to treat her with the consideration that the other wizard had never shown her, and there was no time like the present to begin.

"I'll clean up," he offered, standing and taking the dishes from her. "Why don't you go over the Muggle laws again? I promise I'll listen this time."

She looked taken aback, but she recovered quickly. As she hurried into the living room to get the parchments she'd had earlier, Draco didn't miss the genuine smile on her face.

He did miss the answering one on his.

ooooo

Hermione checked the clock above the TV and noticed that it was already six. Wanting to give Ron plenty of attention tonight, she shuffled her parchments back into order and stood up.

"I think that's enough for the night," she announced to Malfoy, who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

While Hermione tucked the parchment into her purse, Malfoy copied her earlier actions and checked the clock.

"Time to feed the Weasel. Wouldn't want him to get sharp with you."

Hermione let out an exasperated huff and leveled a glare at him.

"Don't make me regret speaking to you, Malfoy."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he defended in a deceivingly innocent voice.

Zipping her purse, Hermione glanced at him again. He had his hands up in a gesture of surrender and there was a sparkle in his eye that disarmed her annoyance.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Malfoy."

She was preparing to Disapparate when he stopped her.

"I'd like to see my mother."

Lowering her wand to her side, Hermione nodded.

"Of course. Why don't you call her and find out when she's available? After you two talk, let me know when I should bring her through."

He was silent as Hermione raised her wand again, but as she disappeared, she heard his quiet thanks.

ooooo

Once alone, Draco tried to decide what to do with the rest of his night. He didn't know what Muggles did for fun. Their lives seemed to be a lot of work; he hadn't even seen a wireless in the house.

Shrugging, he decided that talking to his mother would an excellent way to break up the boredom. Plus, it would help him master his mobile which would give him yet another advantage over Weasley. Smirking with satisfaction, he headed for the bedroom and grabbed the strange little device. Following the steps that Granger had taught him, he dialed his mother while he walked back into the living room. The other end rang twice before she picked up.

"Hello?"

Her voice was so cautious that Draco guessed she didn't know that he was the one calling.

"Mother?" he tested.

"Oh, Draco!" she exclaimed. "I certainly never expected you to phone. It's so nice to hear your voice. How are you handling Muggle life?"

Draco began to tell her about the previous days. He was hesitant at first, unsure that the Muggle-made mobile would function as Granger had told him it would. When he finished describing the awful decor of the house (which was only slightly better for the new floor in the kitchen - Olivia had seen it before Granger could put it back), he was more confident in the mobile's abilities. As he continued to speak, he sat down on the couch.

As Draco told his mother about their shopping trip and the lessons that Granger had given him so far, he learned that using a mobile was actually really easy and extremely comfortable. There was definitely something to be said for receiving feedback immediately instead of waiting for a return owl or Patronus. By the time he had finished talking about his first miserable foray into cleaning, it was as if speaking over the mobile was something that he'd done his whole life. When he checked the clock, he was shocked to see that he'd dialed his mother a full ten minutes previously. In that time, he'd managed to talk about everything except Granger; he'd avoided mentioning her in more than passing, so far.

"And how are you getting along with Hermione?" his mother questioned when he fell silent.

If it were anyone else asking, Draco would blow off the question. This was his mother, however, so he knew that he'd have to put some thought into his answer. He was considering how to describe the odd pattern of fighting followed by short truces that they seemed to have fallen into when she spoke again.

"You're not causing her any trouble, are you, Draco? She seems like a very nice young woman, and she's put her whole life on hold in order to complete this favor for Harry."

Draco couldn't help the disgusted sound that escaped him at the mention of Potter.

"Draco Malfoy, you may not like Harry Potter, but there is no denying that our family owes him a debt. If it weren't for his support, we'd probably all be facing life in Azkaban," she chastised. "Now, are you treating Hermione with the respect she deserves or are you behaving like a spoiled brat?"

Draco pulled the mobile away from his ear and stared at it in surprise. His mother had certainly never spoken to him like that before nor had she ever called him a brat. His eyes narrowed - that had to be Potter's influence. He put the mobile back in place.

"You sounded like Granger just now, Mother. She called me a spoiled brat just today," he admitted.

His mother's sigh carried over the line.

"Then the two of you aren't getting along?"

Her disappointment was clear. He wanted to reassure her, but his circumstances with Granger were complicated.

"That's not it," he finally admitted. "We mostly fight, but sometimes things are..." he paused to search for the right word before settling on, "alright."

"What do you mean?" Narcissa asked, curiosity obvious in her voice.

"Like earlier today. She laughed at me so I snapped at her," he confessed reluctantly.

"How did she respond?"

"She made me lunch."

His mother was completely silent for a moment and then she laughed. The sound filled Draco until he was laughing with her. That was one reason why his mother was so important to him - she could make him laugh without worrying about his reputation. He was startled to realize that the last time he'd laughed like this had actually been in the restaurant with Granger. It was enough to shock him out of his amusement.

"She truly is as clever as Harry said," his mother stated once her chuckling had died down.

Still disconcerted at the thought that he had laughed with Granger in a way that he usually only did with his mother, he turned the conversation away from the Mudblood.

"When are you free to visit?"

Once Narcissa had agreed to come to his new house that Saturday, Draco hung up. Staring down at the closed mobile in his hand, he frowned.

Yes, the Muggle mobile had it all over both owl and Patronus. The fact that was even possible confused him more than anything that had happened since he had left Azkaban.

ooooo

When Luna let out a delighted laugh upon disconnecting Harry's mobile, he looked up from the new proposal he was working on for his next meeting with his higher ups.

He had answered the call from Narcissa who had thanked him for giving her number to Malfoy. When she had asked to speak with Luna, he had handed the device to her immediately. There was only one reason that Narcissa Malfoy would talk to his wife and that was their plot to get Malfoy together with Hermione. Since he still wasn't sure about their plan and continued to hold out on getting any further involved, he hadn't wanted to know the specifics of what they were discussing.

When his lovely, whimsical wife began to spin around the kitchen table in circles while laughing joyously, he knew that he was going to hear the content of her conversation with the Malfoy matriarch. She was simply too happy to keep it to herself.

After thirty seconds of twirling, Luna came to a breathless stop next to him and dropped his mobile on the table.

"Our plan is going quite well," she began, a blinding smile on her face.

"_Your_ plan," he emphasized. He certainly didn't want any of the blame if Ron or Hermione found out. "I had nothing to do with it."

The swaying blonde ignored him.

"They are making progress. Draco called Narcissa tonight. While he and Hermione still fight, he said that they're alright sometimes. Their anger is dying," she announced brightly. "And love will soon blossom in its place."

Harry didn't want to burst the bubble of happiness surrounding his wife, but he felt like he needed to reel her back into reality.

"Doing alright isn't the same as falling in love or even being friends."

"Hermione made him lunch today after they argued," she stated dreamily. "For them, it's the first step to a fairy-tale ending."

While Harry refused to believe that, he definitely didn't like the thought of Hermione cooking for Malfoy. It seemed way too friendly, especially given that she was supposed to be teaching Malfoy to cook for himself.

He knew that Hermione would believe he'd finally gone carrot-top from the stress of his job if he voiced his suspicions to her. However, Malfoy...

Maybe it was time for him to personally check on how Malfoy was settling in.

ooooo

When Hermione sat down for dinner with Ron that night, he dug into the pork chops and roast potatoes that she had cooked with great relish. There was very little room for conversation as he was too focused on the food. Plus, Hermione had learned the best way to avoid coming away from the table covered in food particles was to avoid talking. So she allowed her thoughts to drift.

Spearing a chunk of red potato, she popped it into her mouth and savored the mingling flavors of butter, rosemary, and oregano. There had been a time when she would have never thought she possessed the skill to cook something so tasty. During their journey for the Horcruxes, she had been responsible for several culinary horrors. At that time, she was sure that cooking, like flying, was a talent beyond her reach.

But then Fred had died in the final battle. Mrs. Weasley hadn't handled his death well at all, falling into a deep depression. The older woman had loved all of her children equally, and the presence of the other six hadn't been enough to pull her out initially. With Fred gone, although he was of age and out of the house, it was as if Mrs. Weasley had lost her will to continue.

At the time, the rest of the Weasleys had been so deeply grieving Fred or worrying about George that it was as if nobody but Hermione and Harry had noticed that Mrs. Weasley was drowning. She no longer cooked or cleaned. She would often sit at the kitchen table and stare at the floo as if expecting Fred to appear at any moment. Although they never spoke of it, Hermione knew that it had broken Harry's heart that he couldn't just rush in and save the day as he'd always been able to before. Watching Mrs. Weasley fade and Harry helpless and in pain had hurt Hermione to her very core.

When she was sure that they would lose Mrs. Weasley as completely as they had Fred, Hermione had done the only thing she could think of to help - she had asked Mrs. Weasley to teach her to cook. Distraction had helped Hermione make it through the times when thoughts of Lupin, Tonks, Fred, and so many others made her feel like she could happily embrace the darkness of an eternal sleep, so she hoped the same tactic would help ease Mrs. Weasley back to life. They could help each other.

It had been rough at first, but ever so slowly, Mrs. Weasley had moved back toward the happy woman she had been before the war. Seeing the success that Hermione was having, Harry had joined their cooking lessons, followed by Luna, who was often at the Burrow to help out. Two months after Hermione's first lesson, Mrs. Weasley had a small group of Hogwarts-age or slightly older witches and wizards looking to her for guidance in the kitchen.

Six months after that, Mrs. Weasley had pulled Hermione aside and thanked her for saving her life and helping her realize that even without Fred, she still had family and friends to love and care for.

_"I may never be whole again, but thanks to you, I will be alive to see my grandchildren," she stated, squeezing Hermione so hard that she was sure her ribs would crack._

Predictably, there had been a lot of tears between the two women that night, and they'd been closer than ever before since.

"See how much better things are when you're home at a decent time."

Ron's voice broke through Hermione's thoughts, and not in a very pleasant way. Looking up, she realized that while she had only eaten about half of her food, he had cleared his plate.

"This is how things should be. When you cook dinner so that it's ready when I get home, we can eat together."

Pushing his chair away from the table noisily, Ron stretched and let out a belch. Hermione wrinkled her nose. She would admonish him, but he had proved an utterly hopeless cause where manners were concerned.

"A little less garlic on the potatoes next time, okay?"

As Ron shuffled toward the door into the living room, Hermione glanced down at her half-full plate (she hadn't even used garlic) and then back at her boyfriend.

"Aren't you going to stay until I finish?" she asked.

She hadn't even gotten to tell him about her rather eventful day yet.

"Nah," he said with a shake of his ginger head. "I'm going to catch the Puddlemere-Wimbourne match on the wireless. It may not be over until late, so don't wait up," he finished before moving out of sight.

Hermione stared at the spot where he'd disappeared for a moment and then sighed. Appetite gone, she stood and began to gather the dishes.

She was just draining the dirty water from the sink, listening to Ron curse Oliver Wood, when her mobile rang. When she saw the identity of her caller, she very reluctantly answered.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

"The magic isn't my fault this time," he began.

Hermione's attention sharpened.

"What are you talking about?"

"I found a box that I can spy on people with. You need to come over here and deactivate it before I get blamed for it."

Amusement flowed through Hermione as she guessed at what he was talking about.

"Malfoy..."

"Now, Granger," he cut her off before hanging up on her.

Although Hermione was 98% certain that he had simply turned on the telly, she decided to Apparate over and check it out. She stuck her head in the living room and let Ron know where she was going, and he responded by letting out another loud curse aimed at the wireless.

_Well_, Hermione thought as she pulled on her boots, _it wasn't like she had anything better to do tonight._

A/N 2: Okay, some of you may feel that Draco was OOC during his call with Narcissa, but I think that she would be the one person he would feel comfortable truly being himself with, vulnerabilities and all. The books did set him up to genuinely love her to the point where he would do just about anything to keep her safe, after all. I tried to capture that while still keeping him in character in his thoughts and such. Also, I hope that I kept my portrayal of grief somewhat true to life; I fully believe that once the euphoria of defeating Voldemort wore off, the Weasleys were headed for a dark time, especially George and Mrs. Weasley (remember her boggart in book five?).


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling and I'm not her. Everything else recognizable is owned by their respective companies.  
A/N: I'm an admittedly terrible fanfiction writer and for that I apologize to anyone who's been waiting for me to update this story. The only defense I can offer is that I hated the initial ending to this chapter so much that I refused to post it since I worried that it would throw off the entire rest of the story. Additionally, I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with the next few chapters. I finally just opted to delete the end of this chapter. I also have an idea of what I want to do over the next chapters, so hopefully I'll be able to update a few times in the near future. Once again, I'm American; I'm trying my best with the Britisms, but I'm not British so I'll probably miss some. Please read and review! Thanks!

Draco stared in fascination at the large black box in the living room cabinet. Although it had been in the main room from the moment he moved in, he had never given the box much thought. He had suspected that it was simply a strange Muggle decoration. After all, Muggles don't think normally like wizards, so who knew what they thought was acceptable decor? He assumed that Mudblood brains fuctioned similarly, so the Mudblood who had set up this house (he was sure no one else would be charged with the task) had probably added the box.

When he had noticed buttons on the box, he had pushed them out of curiosity. When he'd pushed the largest button, the box had blared to life. Given that he cursed and jumped backward, slamming his calves into the coffee table, he was glad that Granger hadn't been around. She probably never would have let him forget his utter lack of dignity in that moment.

The sound of voices had drawn his attention back to the box. He had been shocked to see people on the screen. They seemed to be in a restaurant, but he could clearly hear what they were talking about. Curious at this new development, he had focused on the box and listened in on their conversation. What he had heard made him blush. He had always wondered if women talked about sex, but he had never expected the detailed description the woman on the screen was giving to her friends.

At that point, Draco had realized that he needed to tell Granger about the box. It was clearly enchanted to spy on other people, and if he didn't tell Granger, he was sure that she'd blame him for it. There was no way in hell he was going back to Azkaban for something that he hadn't done.

While he waited for Granger to show up, he tried his best to avoid watching the women on the box. He couldn't drown their voices out, though. Honestly, did all women really talk about sex in such graphic terms? Or was it just Muggle women who were so uncouth? Sure, wizards talked about it, but they were men - men were expected to talk about sex. Women weren't, or at least not the women he knew.

All of the whispering and laughing that the Slytherin girls did in the common room suddenly took on a whole new, slightly disturbing meaning.

A soft pop heralded Granger's arrival and dragged him out of his unsettling thoughts.

He glanced over at Granger. From the way she was checking out the room, he knew that he didn't need to point out the box to her. He just needed to wait for her to fix it.

"It's not my fault," he pointed out yet again for good measure.

He certainly didn't expect her to start laughing hysterically in return.

Infuriated with her highly immature response, he turned a stony gaze on her and waited for her to shut up. Apparently Granger noticed his less than amused reaction (although how she could see through her tears was beyond his knowledge) because she covered her mouth and slowly calmed down. After letting out one last snort, which caused her cheeks to redden, she dropped her hand and spoke.

"Welcome to television, Malfoy."

ooooo

"Tell-a-vision?" the blond wizard asked slowly, drawing out the syllables. "What is that?"

Hermione grinned. She was always most comfortable when she was instructing Malfoy in something new. She had gone to school to teach, after all. Of course, the fact that she knew something that he didn't was also wonderful, the very best perk of the job. She was actually surprised at how many extras the job was turning out to have.

"Television is a Muggle invention. There's nothing in the wizarding world like it," she began, moving to stand next to him so that she could also see the telly. "There are a lot of different types of programs; this one happens to be a fictional series. The best way that I can describe it is like a play that is filmed and then broadcast to the public. You're not actually watching someone's real life - merely Muggles acting out scripted events."

When the room abruptly filled with moans and heavy breathing, Hermione went silent. _Oh, no, no, no_, she thought desperately.

"Uh, Granger," Malfoy addressed her, gesturing at the telly.

A couple was having very vocal sex on screen, and although she knew it wasn't real because she recognized the show, she was embarrassed to share the experience with Malfoy. Blushing, Hermione glanced quickly at him and then headed for the cabinet to search for the remote control. The instant she found it, she flipped the channel up, relieved to replace the sex scene with a car chase.

"It appears you have a full selection of channels," she stated, red-cheeked, after clearing her throat awkwardly. "That should give you plenty of options until you get a feel for what you enjoy."

The quiet that fell between them was heavy with the memory of the sex scene. Hermione wondered idly if Malfoy felt as uncomfortable as she did.

It wasn't that Hermione was a prude. She enjoyed sex; she really did, and she had ever since she had made love with Ron for the first time shortly after her nineteenth birthday. She didn't mind when her friends talked about it, and she normally handled those scenes in movies gracefully. But being blindsided by a sex scene when her only company was Malfoy definitely threw her for a loop and made her feel like an untouched teenager once again.

If the rumors that she'd heard in school were true, she doubted that Malfoy was at all affected by the scene. To hear the girls talk, he had slept with Pansy fifth year and then just about every available Pureblood and Halfblood after that. Of course, she knew that the Pansy story was false; her friend had cleared that up a couple of months ago when she had admitted that she hadn't slept with anyone ever. Still, some of the talk had to be true; even back then, Hermione could admit that he was entirely too good-looking not to have at least a couple of notches on his bedpost. And, now...he was even better now. The intervening years had refined his boyish good looks until they were mature and manly.

Disturbed with the direction of her thoughts, Hermione shook her head.

"You can use this remote control to change the channels and the volume of the telly. The buttons are clearly labeled. And, umm, I'll see you tomorrow," she finished clumsily, handing the remote to him.

Before Malfoy could respond, Hermione Apparated home. When she arrived, she braced one hand on the kitchen table and took a deep breath. _Merlin, that was awkward_, she thought before joining Ron in the living room.

She didn't like Quidditch, but maybe it would cleanse her mind of the experience.

ooooo

The crack of Apparation woke Draco the next morning. Cursing under his breath, he sat up and rubbed at his bleary eyes. That hadn't sounded like Granger's Apparation, so he dragged himself out of bed so that he could get dressed before greeting whoever had seen fit to break into his house at...he checked the clock.

_Seven in the morning_, he read with a groan.

Once he had on a pair of black sweats, he exited the room. The sight that greeted him in the living room was one of the last things he ever wanted to see so soon after waking up.

Harry Potter was standing next to his couch, looking around the room curiously.

"Go away, Potter," he muttered, drawing the other wizard's attention to him.

"Morning, Malfoy," Potter greeted him in an irritatingly sunny voice. "You look like hell."

Scrubbing a hand over his head, Malfoy frowned at the other man.

"I just woke up. What's your excuse?"

Potter let out a hearty laugh.

"I see you haven't changed."

Disconcerted by Potter's reaction, Malfoy scowled.

"So, to what do I owe the irritation of your presence, Saint Potter?" he asked.

He hoped that if his childhood nemesis spit out whatever he had come for, he'd leave quickly. Malfoy really didn't want to deal with him today. He was already in a foul mood because of his night's dreams.

His subconscious had clearly lost what sanity remained. After Granger had escaped, Malfoy had explored the available programs on the television. He had eventually settled on one that had a lot of action in it. There was blood and the Muggles were using some sort of strange weapon that made a loud bang. He had been quite enjoying it, even if he didn't understand everything. Then the lead man had sex with the lead woman.

Draco was definitely surprised by all the sex that the Muggles included on their television.

When Draco had gone to bed that night, he had dreamed. His dreams were often sexual; he was barely out of his teens, so he figured that was pretty normal. They usually centered on strange women with great bodies and unidentifiable faces. When he woke up, he rarely remembered the details although he still felt the sexual frustration that came from a lack of satisfaction.

Last night was different. His dreams had focused on one woman, a curly-haired brunette with generous curves. She was different from all the others, though, because she had a clear face. She had soft pink lips, fine cheekbones, freckles scattered across her petite nose and cheeks, and familiar wide, brown eyes. She had done things to him that had destroyed his composure. Draco rarely let himself go completely, even in his dreams, but in this one he had. The woman had been a sex goddess who had worshiped him, and he had returned the favor. The dream sex had been so real that he had woken in the middle of the night to find his boxers uncomfortably sticky, something that hadn't happened since he was fifteen.

When he had woken that morning to the sound of Potter's Apparation, he was disturbed to discover that he still remembered every single detail, including the identity of his dream lover - Hermione Granger.

Needless to say, that wasn't supposed to happen. Yes, he was trying to get her into bed, but that was just to kill time and teach her her place. He wasn't supposed to be attracted to her, and he sure as hell wasn't supposed to have wet dreams about her. The only thing that made him feel any better was that he hadn't had sex since the beginning of sixth year. That had to be the reason he was dreaming about Granger - he was just hard up for some action.

But knowing that didn't improve his mood, and Potter's presence didn't help.

"I know that you've had difficulties adjusting, so I thought I'd check on you myself," Potter finally responded after considering the question carefully.

"What? You don't have faith in Granger?" Draco asked with a sneer.

"I wouldn't have asked her to take you on if that was the case," Potter stated seriously. "Hermione's doing an excellent job, especially since she has to babysit you every day. Ultimately, though, your rehabilitation is on me."

Draco barely refrained from rolling his eyes. So Potter was just here to protect his precious image.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Potter. I'm being a good boy and following Granger's directions. I have no intention of returning to that pit of a prison."

Potter stared intently at him for several seconds before nodding.

"Fine, Malfoy."

When Potter didn't leave, Draco scowled in annoyance.

"What?"

"You're spending a lot of time with Hermione, so I just want to warn you..."

"Yeah, yeah," Malfoy interrupted. "Don't harm her, or I'll end up back in Azkaban."

"That's not what I was going to say, although it does apply," Potter responded, shooting what he probably thought was a threatening glare at Draco. "I was actually going to say don't take advantage of her."

Draco frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Potter sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Hermione shows kindness to everyone, whether they deserve it or not. It's one of the things I love about her, but it means that she's easy to hurt," Potter paused, a conflicted expression on his face. He must have settled his inner debate because he eventually continued on, "She's spending a lot of time with you, so just try not to hurt her."

With that, Potter Disapparated with a loud crack, leaving Draco completely confused.

If he wasn't mistaken, he'd swear that Harry Potter, Granger's best friend and his old enemy, was worried that Granger was starting to both trust and like him.

Deciding that those suspicions were best left unexplored, Draco headed for the bathroom. Maybe a cold shower would clear his head of the unsettling thoughts.

ooooo

When he arrived in the Ministry's lobby, Harry hurried up to his office, nodding greetings to some and exchanging pleasantries with others, but never stopping. Once he reached his office, he pulled the door closed behind him and dropped wearily into the chair behind his desk.

He worried that he had done the wrong thing just now by warning Malfoy not to hurt Hermione. After all, he wasn't even sure there was anything to be worried about, and if there wasn't, he may have just given Malfoy ideas.

The other wizard certainly seemed just as angry and bratty as ever, and Hermione was with Ron. Harry knew that she would never cheat, but he also knew that she was soft-hearted. She accused him of having a 'saving people thing', but she had the same quality. She was especially vulnerable to underdogs, and in the Muggle world, that was definitely Malfoy's role.

Reaching out, he picked up the picture from his wedding. He watched his picture self pick her up and start toward the castle twice, all of his concerns running through his mind.

Narcissa swore that Hermione and Malfoy were perfect for each other.

Luna swore they were soul mates.

He didn't know what he thought, but the damage was already done. He just had to pray that he hadn't set them all on the road to ruin when he had asked Hermione for help.

ooooo

Hermione was at wit's end. She was so frustrated with Malfoy that she could literally spit. The last time she had been this angry with him, she had hit him. She refused to vent in that manner this time; it would be highly unprofessional.

But oh was it tempting.

Hermione waited for the front gates to Malfoy manor to open at lunchtime on Saturday. Once they had, she stomped up the pathway to the front doors, where a house-elf greeted her. As she followed the tiny creature into the mansion, a wave of fear swept over her, temporarily dousing her anger. She took several deep breaths and fought the urge to run. Continuing forward, she started a mantra.

_Bellatrix is not here. She's dead, and she can't hurt you anymore._

She repeated the words over and over until she got her breathing under control. It wouldn't do to meet Narcissa in a state of panic, not when they were both trying to move beyond the past.

When they reached the same room where she had picked up Malfoy on Monday, the little elf announced her before heading back the way they'd come.

"Hermione, it is nice to see you again," Narcissa greeted, stepping forward and shaking Hermione's hand.

Hermione gave the older woman a tremulous smile.

"It's nice to see you, too."

Narcissa must have noticed Hermione's discomfort because her own smile faded slightly and she said, "Let's move on. I'm quite looking forward to seeing my son."

Embarrassed that Narcissa had picked up on her fear but grateful to be leaving nonetheless, Hermione nodded and started back down the hallway to the doors. Once they were outside of the grounds' wards, Hermione instructed Narcissa to take her arm and then Apparated them both to Malfoy's house.

When they landed, Narcissa immediately rushed to her son, who had been waiting for them. While they greeted each other, Hermione turned away to give them a bit of privacy. She could only imagine how Malfoy would act if he caught her watching him while his mother hugged him.

Hermione turned her gaze back to the pair when Narcissa let out a chuckle.

"My, this room is very...Gryffindor, isn't it?" she commented, taking in the decor.

"Unfortunately," Malfoy responded. "Let's go into the kitchen. I made lunch."

He was already in the other room when Narcissa turned to Hermione.

"Will you be joining us, Hermione?" the older witch asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I'll give you two some privacy. I'll be right out here if you need anything."

Narcissa smiled at her and then moved out of sight.

Alone, Hermione pulled the collection of Grimm fairy tales that she had noticed earlier off the bookshelf and made herself comfortable. She flipped it open to the first story but found that she couldn't focus on the words. Her thoughts were far too consumed with the events of the last two days.

The tentative truce that she had shared with Malfoy had clearly ended. He had been testy and uncooperative in a way that she had only seen in small bouts since their shopping trip. Any time she gave him instructions, he would snipe at her, often insulting some random aspect of her appearance. He'd had a go at her hair, teeth, and clothing. He didn't listen to the information that she passed on, so she constantly had to repeat herself. The entire atmosphere in the house was so unpleasant that she had grown to dread waking up in the morning.

The worst part was that she didn't understand what had happened. When she had left Wednesday night, things had been awkward, yes, but they hadn't been bad. Sure, blond hair and silver eyes had shown up in her dreams that night, but she hadn't let that stop her arriving the next day in a positive mood. She had been determined that the discomfort of what they had seen on the telly wouldn't ruin their working relationship. They were finally getting along, and that made her job much easier.

Apparently Malfoy disagreed because he had started in on her immediately.

Home should have been a refuge from work, but Malfoy's cruelty messed with her disposition. She was in a bad mood when she got home, so all of Ron's bad habits, which she usually brushed off, seemed magnified. She had started picking fights with him, and he was never able to just walk away. As a result, their relationship was more strained than usual. In her darkest moments, she would wish that they'd never moved in together. When she felt like that, she'd remind herself that if they ever got married, they'd have to be able to weather the rough patches.

She wished the thought made the arguments easier, but it didn't.

Hermione blinked and became aware of the tears running down her cheeks. Furious at the uncharacteristic show of weakness, she swiped them away and set the book aside.

After straightening herself up in the bathroom, she resumed her spot on the couch. Picking up the fairytale book, she stared determinedly at the pages.

She would not think about how miserable she was right now, and with any luck Malfoy's visit with Narcissa would fix whatever was wrong.

ooooo

"Your house is cute," Narcissa stated once she and Draco were seated with bowls of canned chicken noodle soup, tea, and crackers in front of them. "It could be quite homey if you decided to decorate."

Staring down at his soup, Draco nodded. Deciding that he'd better eat before his mother noticed that something was wrong, he picked up his spoon and dipped it in the broth. He wasn't hungry, though, so he set it aside.

"What's wrong, Draco?" his mother asked, her tone concerned.

He shook his head, avoiding her eyes, and picked his spoon back up.

How was he supposed to tell her that he had been acting like a brat, just as she had told him not to? That he had been the very worst version of himself the last couple of days?

In the past, Draco wouldn't have cared that he was being mean to Granger for something that she hadn't done, but for some reason now he did. Maybe it was because she couldn't help that she had featured in several X-rated dreams over the last couple of nights. The logical part of his mind knew that; he wasn't an idiot. Every time he looked at her, though, he would instantly relive his dreams. This inevitably left him hard, aching, and in a towering temper because she was a Mudblood and _he shouldn't feel like this!_

Even if he told his mother that he was treating Granger terribly, he could certainly never tell her why he was. He thought he was fairly close to Narcissa, but he wasn't about to tell her that he was fighting an unwanted attraction to Granger. Besides, she seemed to like the Mudblood, so she'd probably make things even worse by encouraging him to pursue her. No, it was best to keep the problem to himself.

"Just a difficult couple of days," he admitted, getting as close to the truth as he dared.

Narcissa nodded knowingly.

"The first month or two are hard. Muggle life is very different from everything we know, but it does get better. Before you know it, you'll be extremely adept at all things Muggle," she reassured him. "And their life does have advantages that our world doesn't. Have you learned about the television or been to a movie, yet?"

They passed several moments discussing the programs that she had enjoyed, and she explained the movie theater to him. Silence fell while she finished her tea and he picked at his soup.

"Did you know that Blaise has recently taken up with the Weasley girl?" his mother asked shortly after.

Surprised, Draco raised a questioning eyebrow.

She nodded.

"I know - quite unusual. I wasn't even aware they knew each other, but they've been spotted in the Muggle neighborhoods near his house recently. It was in the society pages of the Prophet."

Draco frowned. "Why would the Prophet be interested in them?"

She smiled and answered, "Miss Weasley is now quite famous in her own right. She's a starting Chaser for the Harpies. Her on and off relationship with Oliver Wood has been quite the fodder for the gossip mill."

Draco considered this information and then shrugged.

"I doubt they're dating or anything - Blaise doesn't like the Weasleys any more than I do. She's Granger's friend, so I bet she's just giving him the Muggle lessons he agreed to."

Narcissa appeared intrigued by that information.

"Why is Blaise taking Muggle lessons?" she asked curiously.

Groaning internally at his stupidity in bringing it up (it was the one thing he had kept to himself when he called her Wednesday night because he wanted to avoid a lecture), Draco explained about his rule-breaking with Blaise's help, Granger catching them, and the deal that she had cut with Blaise to keep him out of Azkaban. When he finished his story, she was quiet for a moment and then she smiled.

"My respect for Hermione grows every time I learn more about her," she stated approvingly before moving onto her memories of her own time in the Muggle world.

Ten minutes later, Narcissa announced that it was time for her to leave, so they both went into the living room where Granger waited. When Granger looked up, Draco scowled when he saw how red and puffy her eyes were. It almost looked like she had been crying, but that couldn't be right. That didn't seem like the sort of thing she would do.

"Perhaps we can have lunch together every Saturday," Narcissa proposed.

Tearing his eyes away from Granger, Draco nodded.

"That would be fine," he agreed.

"Are you leaving?" Granger asked.

"Yes. I volunteer at St. Mungo's on Saturday afternoons. I don't want to be late," she explained.

"The wards aren't set to recognize your magical Apparation signature, so I'll have to take you through."

"Okay," Narcissa consented.

When his mother pulled him into a hug, Draco fought back his embarrassment at being caught yet again in this position in front of Granger.

Before Narcissa pulled away, she whispered, "Just remember: things will get easier. I am so proud of you for trying."

Draco fought a feeling of...was it shame? He wasn't sure, having rarely ever felt it before, but in that moment, he felt like he had let his mother down. He hadn't been trying the past two days; in fact, he had been actively battling Granger every time she tried to teach him something new.

_That was going to change_, he decided as he watched Granger Disapparate with his mother. He needed to set aside his anger over his dreams and act like an adult.

He planned to set things right with Granger when she got back, but he didn't get the chance.

She Apparated in, stayed just long enough to tell him that he had the rest of the day off, and then disappeared again. Staring at the spot where she had just stood, Draco realized that he had a lot of work to do if he wanted to fix things. He couldn't help but remember her red eyes and he wondered if he had been responsible for her tears. The thought was somewhat disquieting.

Since when did he care if he made Granger cry?

ooooo

When Hermione arrived home, she slumped down in a kitchen chair, all energy drained. She briefly wondered if Harry would take her off Malfoy's case, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it appeared. She could never let Harry down that way, and besides, she wasn't a quitter. She just needed to take the day and gather her composure so that she would be prepared to face Malfoy when their lessons resumed tomorrow.

Deciding to clean the flat because that would at least distract her from her problems, Hermione pushed her chair back from the table. While she gathered the cleaning supplies, she couldn't shake the parting words that Narcissa had given when she had dropped the other witch off at St. Mungo's.

_"Don't give up hope, my dear. I know that my son can be difficult, but if you stick with him, I can promise that the rewards will be great._"

The words were so odd, yet comforting in their own way. Narcissa knew Draco better than anyone, so perhaps she was right.

Hermione was lost in her thoughts and nearly done with the flat when Ron got home from Harry's. They had gone to see Ginny's match, and she knew that Ron's mood would be almost wholly dependent on the results. When he crossed directly to her and lifted her up, she let out a surprised laugh.

"The Harpies did well?" she guessed.

He grinned from ear to ear. "It was a shut-out. Kenmare didn't get a single goal past them and Ginny made five."

He set her back on the floor and leaned down to kiss her, but Hermione pulled back.

"I'm sorry for how awful I've been lately," she apologized, taking advantage of his good mood.

"It's okay," he accepted. "If I had to see the ferret every day, I'd probably be pissy too."

He bent to kiss her again, and again Hermione moved her head away.

"But I shouldn't take it out on you."

She couldn't just leave it alone. She had treated him horribly and wanted to make sure he knew how very sorry she was for it.

He let out a frustrated groan. "It's fine. Now will you be quiet and let me kiss you?"

She nodded, and he finally took her lips. When Hermione circled her arms around his neck, she felt a little better. At least this part of her life was back to normal for today.

She'd deal with Malfoy tomorrow.

A/N 2: Okay, I know there's not much humor in this chapter, but they are still new to the whole not being enemies thing. Sorry about the Ron/Hermione, but they are still together, so there will be happy times amongst all of the strain in their relationship. Thanks for reading!


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